Stump and all
by NotThatIWillEverWriteIt
Summary: In the military tattoos were taken very seriously, even more so than medals. Medals only told success stories whereas tattoos left nothing out. Warts and all. Especially warts. Hajime had never been pierced deeper than the breast of his uniform, but you hardly needed a tattoo to tell his story.
1. Chapter 1

In the military, tattoos were taken very seriously and worn like badges of honor. They held more meaning than medals that were pinned to your chest like a rosette on the winning horse and left to collect dust in the bookshelf afterward. Medals only told success stories. Tattoos told _more_ stories and left nothing out. Warts and all.

Especially warts.

Despite being with the army ever since his high school graduation Hajime had never gotten pierced deeper than the breast of his uniform. He had done enough tours to cover his whole body with stories, yet for some reason, he hadn't shared any of them on his skin where others could read them, too.

Not even the one that had ended his career. Although, you hardly needed a tattoo to tell it.

"Why did I have to come with you again?" Hajime asked when the truck pulled in front of the local tattoo studio. A little hole in the wall shop nestled between the gas station and the local office of the national bank.

Mattsun killed the engine and hung his sunglasses to the neck of his shirt. "Come on, it's good to have some fresh air. When was the last time you left the house, huh? Besides, you can help me with the shopping later."

"What, I'm gonna carry the groceries in my teeth?" Hajime said, but Mattsun had already climbed out of the car and slammed the door shut at his sneer.

The leather seat creaked when Hajime struggled to get the long, clumsy crutches out of the door and braced them firmly so he could slide carefully down from his seat. One of the many everyday things that people normally did without even thinking about it that had become a challenge he had to prepare himself for and plan beforehand. Mattsun waited for him on the curb checking his phone.

"Em asked us to pick something pretty for the girls while we're here. Something summery for the party. Maybe you could help me choose something."

"Why? Because I'm gay I automatically have a fashion sense?"

Mattsun took a long look at Hajime's worn out, sweaty marine t-shirt and baggy sweatpants. "I think you missed that class in the gay academy. Now, come on, I wanna introduce you to someone."

The electronic bell chimed when they opened the front door of the studio.

"Just a minute!" was hollered somewhere from the back.

The shop was bigger than what it had looked from the outside. They stood in a little entrance lobby that had a small reception desk loaded with thick folders and an open laptop, two closed doors behind it, a black two-seater sofa in front of the shop window, a full-length mirror in the corner, and the walls were covered with portrays of tattoo designs and certificates.

Hajime caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and quickly averted his eyes. He tested the couch in case it was the kind that would dip him too low before slumping down. The crutches he arranged to lean against the edge of the seat, and the room was so small they reached to the desk and split the small room in two. His side and everyone else's side. Do not cross.

The door on the right opened, and a tall young man stepped out. With a quick look, Hajime estimated he was about his age. He had a chocolate brown hair with an undercut, black pair of glasses propped on his nose, and he was wearing cut jeans, a loose white top with ink stains on it, and no shoes. A tattoo resembling The Great Wave on his bicep flexed along with the muscle.

His face immediately brightened when he recognized Mattsun, and he zigzagged from the behind the counter to shake his hand and pull him into a friendly hug.

"Man, it's good to see you," he said and slapped Mattsun on the shoulder.

"You too. The sun didn't scorch you to a crisp after all?"

The guy laughed and presented his forearm which, despite having a light tan, looked fair and smooth. There was another smaller tattoo inside his wrist, but Hajime couldn't make out what it was.

"It damn near did. I blew a third of my budget on sunblock alone."

"How was the trip? When'd ya get back?"

"Last Sunday, thought I'd take a couple days before coming back to work. And the islands were amazing! I sent you pictures, right?"

"Plenty," Mattsun said dryly. "Anyway, we're here for the show."

The guy picked up the laptop and his long, delicate fingers flew over the keyboard when he typed in something. "Yeah, yeah, I've been waiting for this." He lifted his gaze from the screen and looked at Mattsun with a small smile. "I can't believe it's the time already. It feels like just a little while ago when I did you the first one. Are you really gonna go through with it?"

"Yup, sent the resignation last week. This was my last tour."

"You're done with the army?"

"I'm done with the army."

"How long is this gonna take?" Hajime said from the sofa. Even to his own ears he sounded like a petulant child but couldn't muster up enough energy to care. "I've got places to be."

"You mean our living room couch is much different from that one?" Mattsun nodded at the sofa. "Sorry," he said to the guy, "the grumpy over there is my childhood friend and army buddy, Hajime. We served in the same places."

"Oh, cool," the guy said and reached his hand out. Immediately his eyes shifted to the bulky knot made of Hajime's sweater leg under his knee, then to the crutches, and back to the knot again. "My name is Oikawa Tooru, nice to meet ya."

Hajime nodded curtly and snatched his hand back after a quick shake.

"Tooru is – I think you could say he's the designated tattooist of the army. Everyone comes here."

Tooru raised his eyebrows at the high praises. "Oh, please, if it was everyone I wouldn't have to squeeze myself into this rathole. But yeah, I get a lot of you guys." He closed the laptop and set it back on the desk. "Shall we, then?"

"Yeah, let's get to it," Mattsun said and pulled off his shirt and tossed it to Hajime.

They disappeared into one of the backrooms, but the studio was so small Hajime could hear them clearly. Without having anything to do he closed his eyes and listened to them talking about the design and catching up on Tooru's trip and Mattsun's family. The tattoo machine buzzed in intervals in the background. Bzzz. Bzzzzzz. Bzz-z. Bzz. It sounded oddly soothing.

He knew what Mattsun was getting. They had both done three tours together, and Mattsun had all of their dates tattooed on his chest, above his heart. Hajime had rolled his eyes at the cheesy idea when Mattsun had gotten the first date years ago, but none of his ridicule had made any difference. And now, he was about to ink the last tour, cut in short, into his skin.

The wart.

Bzzzzzz-zz. Bz. Bz. Bzzz.

"I was wondering," he heard Mattsun say, "what do you know about scar tattoos?"

The buzzing paused for a while. "You mean like having a tattoo to cover scars?"

"Yeah, have you ever done them?"

"A few. I did one couple months ago for a woman who had had breast cancer, and she wanted to cover the operation scar. I kinda like those projects even though scars mean something bad has happened. But because they break the smoothness of the skin it's almost like you can do 3D tattoos." The buzzing resumed. "Why? You have something in mind?"

Hajime opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. Just now he noticed there were black-and-grey floral designs in the corners where the ceiling met the walls.

"No, just asking for a friend."

"Oh, okay. Well, ask them to drop by, and I'll check what I can do."

"How well do you think those kinda tattoos take?"

"It depends on the scaring, to be honest. Like, how well it's healed and how deep it goes. I should see it to tell for sure."

"What about amputations? You know like, stumps? Can you tattoo those?"

The crutches clattered and squeaked against the floor when Hajime hoisted himself up. He stood so fast he almost lost his balance but managed to gain it in the last second. The handles slipped grossly under his sweaty palms.

"It's boring here, I'll wait for you in the car," he hollered to the backroom.

"What? You're gonna have a heat stroke in there," Mattsun said.

"You've got AC."

"Fine," Mattsun sounded like he wasn't fine, but it wasn't worth the battle, "if you listen to the stereo, don't mess with the settings!"

"Yeah, yeah," Hajime muttered and awkwardly swung the front door open and tried to hurriedly wedge himself between before it closed. The handle dug into the small of his back painfully while he struggled to get through.

In the backroom, Tooru made sure he was gone before speaking again. "Let me guess, the friend you were talking about was him?"

Mattsun sighed. "Yeah. Sorry about that. He's not really an ass."

"No worries." Tooru wiped off the excess ink and leaned back to evaluate his work before resuming to hover over Mattsun's chest again. The tattoo gun continued to beat the numbers into the skin. "Is he alright, though?"

"He's in a rough place right now. Thought I'd get him out of the house even for a while."

"Do you think he'd want me to make him something?"

"Probably not, but – well, if you get the sudden inspiration you could maybe scribble something? I'll pay for it either way, of course."

"Yeah, sure. There's actually this one idea that popped into my mind as soon as I realized…his situation."

"I'd appreciate it."

Tooru lifted the glasses that had slid down with the back of his hand. Mattsun noticed a bead of sweat rolling down the side of his long neck. There was a battered fan spinning in the corner but without a proper draft it did very little, and the heat was oppressing.

"If you don't mind me asking, does it have something to do with you quitting?"

Mattsun looked at the needle spewing black ink into his skin and listened to the angry little bursts of buzzing. "Some of it, yeah."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to pry. It's none of my business."

"It's okay. I actually think it'd be better if more people pried into his business. Maybe he'd snap out of it."


	2. Chapter 2

The plastic chair wobbled on the soft grass when Hajime leaned back to down the last of his beer. The thin medal crumbled easily in his grip, and he tossed the dented can in the big trash Em had set next to the tables. It bounced off the edge of the bin and fell to the ground.

The family was having a backyard barbecue to celebrate Mattsun's resignation. For weeks, Em had put a lot of love and effort into the planning and preparations. Various kinds of meat were sizzling on the grill coated with sticky barbeque sauce, the big tub full of ice water provided a steady supply of cold drinks, and the radio played the greatest hits of the summer in the background. In the middle of it all, Em walked among the guests and she was radiating happiness in a way Hajime hadn't seen before.

Despite the significance of the occasion, it was all very casual and only the closest family and friends had been invited: Em's parents who lived close by and often helped with the kids, the neighbors, and a couple of other military families whose kids were friends with the twins. It was quite obvious she had tried to keep the army presentation to a minimum: only a few of the guests were still on active duty.

Mattsun walked over the yard to him and tossed the empty can in the trash on his way.

"What are you doing sulking here by yourself?" he said and took a careful seat in the plastic chair next to where Hajime had been holding his lonely fort the whole night.

"All you said was I had to attend. I'm here, what else do ya want?"

"Oh, I dunno, you could maybe come to sit with us? Mingle?"

Hajime scoffed. "When have you ever seen me mingle?"

"Fair enough," Mattsun said with a little shrug. He glanced at the army of empty beer cans on the table. "Have you eaten anything?"

"What are you, my mother?"

"I wish so I could give ya a firm smack in the head. You could sure use one, or ten. I mean, would giving even a little smile hurt?"

"Got nothing to smile about," Hajime said and opened a fresh beer.

What Hajime had always liked the most about Mattsun was his laid-back temperament. It wasn't easy to irk him, but Hajime could tell from the tone of his voice he was starting to push the first perimeters of his endless patience. He leaned closer and lowered his voice.

"Nothing to sm – man, you're _alive_. How about that? I get that you're having a hard time, I really do, but buddy, you need to wake up. I mean, what is it gonna take? Tell me, what do I need to do to get my old friend back?"

"Well, getting me a tattoo or some stranger gawking at me ain't gonna help."

Mattsun's lips tightened and his face darkened. "Tooru's a – "

"Hon? Honey!" Em called from the grill station. "Could you please give me a hand with the girls?"

"Coming!" Mattsun hollered back but turned to Hajime before leaving. "We're not done talking yet."

Throwing silent daggers at Mattsun's broad back as he made his way through the crowd Hajime seethed in his seat. As long as he could walk from point A to point B with such ease, he had no right to ask him for anything, as far as Hajime was concerned. They might have been best friends since their elementary school days, but Mattsun had no idea what it was to be in Hajime's shoes. Well, a shoe.

Humorlessly he chuckled to himself and took a long swing of the beer and angrily wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He saw Mattsun picking up one of the twins and saying something to Em. Immediately she glanced at Hajime's direction and said something back. Mattsun bent down to kiss her forehead before heading inside the house with the little girl in his arms.

Hajime watched the silent pantomime, and guilt twinged in his chest. He hadn't been fair. He knew that, despite everything, things could be worse. At least he had someone, but he shoved the kindness right back at their face. He just couldn't help that he didn't see a point in any of it.

"Iwaizumi?"

Hajime flinched when someone called his name right next to him. It was Hinata, a young rookie who had served his first tour with him and Mattsun.

"Thought it was you," Hinata said excitedly and occupied Mattsun's chair. "Can't believe I actually got to see you again after the – anyway, how you been?"

"Fine."

"Really? Well, good for you." He reached to pat Hajime's shoulder. Hajime stiffened and squeezed his beer can. "The guys have all been worried about you, but I'm glad to hear you're doing good."

"Yeah."

"Things have been crazy lately. All the leaves have been cut. I managed to beg an extra night because Mattsun was my superior and I was – but I have to be back first thing tomorrow. Gotta take it easy with these." Hinata grinned and lifted his drink.

Hajime listened to his babble but scanned the crowd for Mattsun to pick up his distress signal and come and rescue him. He was nowhere to be seen, though.

"Did you hear who they brought in to replace you guys?" Without waiting for Hajime to answer he went on. "Tsukishima and Ushijima. Jesus." He shook his head a little. "I mean, I guess they were next in line, but talk about crushing the atmosphere, man."

Hajime's gut gave a slight twist, but he kept his tone even and face blank. "They're good leaders and have lots of experience."

"Yeah, but their social skills are seriously lacking. And they're enforcing some Spartan discipline, too. We've done more missions than ever before because they volunteer our team for everything."

"That's what you get paid for."

"I mean, you and Mattsun were tough on us, but we had some fun, too. Not with these two, though. I don't think they've ever even heard the word." Hinata sighed and sipped his drink.

"It's not about _fun_."

"But I guess the big bosses wanted to make sure our team was under more control. I mean, it's not like we did anything wrong, it was an accident, but – these kinda things reflect badly on the management."

The leg of Hajime's chair sank deeper into the soft grass when he shifted in his seat. Hinata glanced at him quickly.

"Well, I say bullshit. If anyone got screwed, it was you. As far as I'm concerned, they've got nothing to complain about. And making it look like it was your fault was bullshit."

"What's done is done," Hajime muttered into his beer.

"They're just trying to shrink from responsibility, damn cowards." Hinata's voice raised, and he spread his arms. "And did you hear about how they're trying to slow down the investigation with their technicalities?"

Hajime's back stiffened, and he could feel his body recoil on itself. "Lower your voice."

"They're drowning the investigation in red tape and sweep it under a rock. Like the kid had fallen out of the sky. Like I said, _bullshit_. There was a clear curfew and he was all alone, no way that's just a coincidence."

"Shut up," Hajime wheezed. An invisible claw crept up his sweaty back and sunk its bony fingers between the ribs to squeeze his lungs.

"Nah, they just trynna keep it hush-hush because it makes them look bad. Man, if they had been there that day, if they had seen the shit themselves – hell, if they had been with the medic to pick the boy's pieces – "

"Shut up." The pressure was rapidly building in Hajime's chest, threatening to fall apart at the seams.

" – I bet they would've had a different attitude. They can't even begin to understand what it must have been like to – "

"Shut up!" Hajime slammed his drink down, and beer splashed on his hand. "Shut up! Just shut the _fuck_ up about it." The plastic chair was knocked down with a soft thud when he stumbled to his feet. Hinata startled and looked at him wide-eyed.

"I'm s – "

"I don't care about the kid or investigation, and I sure as hell don't care about my replacement. I don't care about any of it! So, shut the fuck up."

"I didn't – I just," Hinata stammered and sat frozen in his seat.

"I know what I did and what happened, so I don't need to hear about it from you. What's done is done." Hajime leaned to tower over Hinata. The light plastic table tipped under his weight. "And I don't need you to look out for me. You just worry about your own business, that should be plenty for you."

"What – "

"What's going on here?" Mattsun's voice pierced through the veil of rage Hajime had worked himself into and snapped him back to reality. The bony fingered beast that had threated to spread inside his head and bury him alive recoiled back under the surface.

The buzz of conversation around them had died, and everyone was staring. Em was cradling a crying twin in her arms. Her eyes were nailed to Hajime over the girl's shaking shoulders while she stroked her back and tried to calm her down.

"Hajime? You okay?"

With clumsy shaking hands Hajime picked up his crutches. "Just leave me alone," he mumbled as he limped past Mattsun and disappeared into the house.

 **~~oOo~~**

Feeling groggy and disoriented Hajime woke up on the living room couch to dishes clattering in the kitchen and a full bladder. He remembered brooding by himself after storming out and staring blindly at the sports channel but not falling asleep. Now he found himself tucked under a blanket, the television turned off, and a water bottle and a painkiller on the coffee table next to his head.

The screen of the back door clanked, and Hajime closed his eyes and pretended to be sleeping when someone – Mattsun, judging by the long strides – swooshed past the couch to the kitchen. Hajime listened to him emptying dishes into the garbage disposal and the swirl and rattle of the spinning blades as they hacked through the food. The noise always turned Hajime's stomach. It made him think of chunks of meat being maimed into a bloody pulp.

"Did the girls go to bed alright?" he heard Mattsun ask.

"Mavis was a bit upset but she calmed down eventually. I had to read her favorite story three times and stay until she fell asleep."

"Did she ask about – you know?"

"Not really. I think she just got a little startled at the sudden blow-up. You know how she is."

"What about Maddie?"

"She was quieter than usual. I let her sleep in Mavis' bed tonight and put the plastic bed covers on just in case."

Hajime heard Mattsun sigh deeply. He imagined him crossing his arms like he always did when he was troubled. Or maybe he was hugging Em's slim waist and pulling her for a hug which was what he did when he was trying to make up with her.

"I'm sorry, Em."

"I know you are, but you know as well as I that we can't go on like this. I get that you wanna be there for him, but I don't think this is the way. You can't do it at the expense of your family."

"Come on, you know he'd never hurt anyone, especially the girls. So, he raised his voice a little. I bet Hinata was getting on his nerves."

"That's not the – I'm talking about having to walk on eggshells in our own home. Because this wasn't the first time. I mean, he doesn't sleep, he drinks, and the littlest things can set him off. He's a ticking time bomb, and we're waiting for it to blow at our faces." Em's voice got louder towards the end as her frustration grew.

"Shh, he's sleeping."

"That, that there is exactly what I'm talking about. Hushing. We've been hushing ourselves for almost two months now. When is it gonna end?"

"Then what do you want me to do, huh?" Mattsun's tone got sharp. "Kick him out when he's at the lowest point of his life? He's my best friend, I'm not gonna do that."

"Of course not. What he needs is professional help, but right now, we're enabling him to just wallow in his own misery. He's a good man, and I care about him, too, but his self-destructive behavior is starting to take its toll on your family. I mean, what about when the baby comes? It's only gonna add to all of this, and I can't constantly have this kinda tension around in the house. You promised me you were done with the army when we got pregnant again."

"I am done with it. In case you didn't notice, I quit."

"Yeah, but I didn't expect the army to come live in our guest room."

"That's not fair."

"No, but it is the reality," Em said quietly and like all the fight had been drained out of her. "I know this is a tough situation for you and I hate myself for putting you through it, but," she sighed, "I feel like I don't have a choice anymore. We need to figure out something else because this isn't working."

The kitchen went silent for a while. Not even the dishes were clattering, and Hajime pictured them both leaning against the kitchen counter and not quite looking at each other.

Finally, Mattsun broke the silence. "Yeah, I hear ya. I, uh, I'll figure something. Talk to him about it."

"I'll help you if you need anything. Just ask, okay?" Their conversation was interrupted when one of the twins called for mom upstairs. "I'll go check on the girls. Are all the dishes inside already?"

"Yeah, I'll handle the kitchen."

Em walked past the couch, and Hajime could smell the waft of her perfume. Mattsun resumed to cleaning up and switched the garbage disposal on again.


	3. Chapter 3

Nights before falling asleep were the worst. That intermission when you're out of distractions but sleep hasn't claimed you yet. When you lay in bed in the silent darkness and stare at the shapeless shadows. That's when it always came out.

Well, _it_ wasn't quite right. It was more like _them_ , and one by one they all took turns to occupy the stage that was Hajime's mind.

It started with realization. Hajime looked around the motel room he had moved into from Mattsun's place. After eavesdropping on their conversation, he had decided to give Mattsun an easy out and told him it was about time he stopped freeloading. While he was looking for a place of his own he'd stay at the local motel.

Don't worry, I'll be fine, he had assured Mattsun when they had moved in the last of his stuff. Mattsun had scooped him in a tight embrace and told him to call if there was anything he needed.

Realization took a censorious look around the room and pointed out everything that was a clear indication Hajime wasn't doing very well in his life. And when you were a gimp and lived out of a sleazy motel room, the list pretty much wrote itself.

After realizing everything that was wrong in his life, it was time to look for whose fault it all was. Bitterness rolled out its chronical list which started with his single mother. What kind of a parent lets their only child join the army? Sure, she had tried to talk him out of it, but she should've tried harder. And if Mattsun hadn't been so excited to join with him and if someone had given him one of the many odd jobs he had applied for, Hajime wouldn't probably have enlisted and he would be living a happy, wholesome family life.

Or if the fucking kid and his parents had followed the curfew Hajime would still have both of his legs. He would have finished his last tour with his best friend and gone for a vacation somewhere where the only sand you could find was at the beach.

A woman giggled and yelped in the hallway, and a man spoke something in a low voice. Her heels clacked on the floor, and the door of the next room clanked.

No, if you were looking for the true culprit for his misery, you needn't search far. He could blame everyone else for all he wanted, but the truth was it was all on him. He had made a stupid, rookie mistake and paid the price.

That always led to utter hopelessness and self-pity, the grand finale. Slowly but surely it sucked Hajime deeper like walking on a soft swap ground. The deeper you sunk, the harder it became to yank yourself free.

And if Hajime was completely honest, he didn't really want to free himself. The play had somehow become his safe place, and he treated it with fondness, almost looking forward to the different physical sensations the feelings provoked in him. Like a junkie he craved for the for the bitterness, hurt, and self-loathing. It was familiar, and wallowing required zero effort.

Most nights that was where it ended. He might go through the cycle couple times before falling asleep, but rarely he went further than that. Because then it got scary.

That was when he was so deep into the pit that the whole world went askew and twisted. The last guest stars which rarely got to perform, the crippling anxiety and terrifying suicidal thoughts, took over not only the stage but the whole of Hajime. They filled his already weakened mind with images of him walking to the kitchen and slicing his wrist. Or finding the highest building in town and stepping into the emptiness.

They tried to convince the side of him that still wanted to live, his survival instinct, of killing himself. The other side reacted by slamming the anxiety button, and Hajime was left to listen to the duel in his head like an outsider. So far his will to live and fear of death had won the arguments but who knew for how long that would last.

He had become scared of himself.

It didn't take long for the woman to start moaning in the other room, and the headboard took its first tentative bangs, knocks really, against the wall. Hajime glanced at the clock on the nightstand and decided he wasn't drunk enough to pass out or listen to the hooker to start her night shift.

 **~~oOo~~**

Tooru had been just on the edge of falling asleep when the couple next door had started to make amorous noises. He had watched enough porn to tell the woman was faking it, but it didn't seem to bother her partner, and after just a couple of minutes he came with a deep growl. If Tooru hadn't been so exhausted from work, he would have maybe jerked off to it. That sound always made his knees weak.

His back and whole right arm were aching. The last couple of days he had been playing catch up with work he had pushed for later because of his trip. After holding the vibrating tattoo gun for almost around the clock, he had sunk his burning arm in cold ice water with a deep, satisfied sigh.

After the guy finished, it got quiet again. Tooru stored the audio in his jerk bank for later use and buried himself deeper into the sheets. Foolishly he wasn't the least bit concerned when the door clanked so soon after having sex.

By the time a john number three shot his load with what sounded like a half-sob Tooru gave up. Frustrated he tossed the blanket aside, yanked on his pants, and pulled an old, worn-out hoodie over his head to shield himself from the night chill. Determined he stomped to the bar next to the motel where the clerk worked at nights.

The surprise halted his steps when he opened the bar door. The bartender-clerk was in the middle of hauling a tall, beefy guy on his feet off the barstool. The guy appeared to be passed out since he hung limp against the bartender's shoulder. Tooru squinted his eyes in the dark lighting, the guy looked oddly familiar.

"Hajime?"

The bartender's attention nailed at Tooru standing in the doorway. "Hey, you, could you gimme a hand?" he said with a grunt and tried to get a better hold of the slack body.

Tooru hurried across the floor and wrapped Hajime's other hand behind his shoulder. Together they balanced him between themselves. He hung there lifeless, and his head lulled between his shoulders. A thick trail of drool was stretching out of the corner of his mouth. Tooru's lower back flared angrily under the extra weight, and he grimaced silently.

"Help me carry him back to his room, it's not far."

It wasn't, Hajime's room was just next door, but every one of those few meters were a struggle. It was a race against gravity, and they almost lost it a couple of times. The bartender opened Hajime's room door with some difficulties while trying to support his body, and they lowered him on the double bed. Tooru slumped in the cane chair at the table to catch his breath.

He let his gaze wander around the room. All the tabletops were loaded with empty beer cans and liquor bottles. The bed was a mess of bundled sheets, and there was a half-eaten pizza on the nightstand. The room stank of booze, sweat, and puke.

"Is he alright?" he said and glanced at unconscious Hajime half on the bed. His arms were spread, and his breathing sounded heavy.

"He just passed out," the bartender wiped off the sweat of his forehead with his sleeve, "damn near fell off the chair. Caught him just in time. You know him?"

"Ah, not really, I've met him once. I didn't know he was staying here."

The bartender sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. "I better go call his friend. I can't leave him in the room like this, but I know the ER won't take him either."

"You mean Mattsun?"

"You know him, too?"

"Yeah, he's a – look, I don't think you should call him at this hour, he's got little kids and a pregnant wife. I can stay with him and call Mattsun in the morning."

"You sure?" The bartender kneaded his neck unsure what to do but tempted to take Tooru up on his offer. "I mean, I can't ask you to do that. My boss would tear me a new one if he found out I've been enlisting guests to take care of others."

"Then let's not tell him. It's either you let me look after him or you have to call the police. If you do that, I'm afraid I'll also have to make a complaint about the obvious hustling going on in the next room."

The bartender froze and glanced at Tooru. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Neither do I if we have a deal. That man there deserves better than to wake up in the drunk tank the next morning. Hell, he deserves better than to wake up in this motel. I can deal with him, it's not rocket science. So, how it's gonna be?"

The bartender sighed again and spread his arms in defeat. "Fine, fine. Just keep this between you and me, okay? And if you have any problems come and get me. I'll go get his crutches."

In the meantime, Tooru rolled Hajime on his side, stuffed a pillow under his head (the hair was dirty and left Tooru's fingers a bit waxy), and placed a bucket he found in the bathroom next to the bed. As the hooker next door began to work on her next trick, Tooru started to clear the empty bottles and cans into a big plastic bag.


	4. Chapter 4

Mattsun looked at the stack of empty pizza boxes with stale grease stains soaked through the cardboard and plastic bags of smelly beer cans next to the door and let out yet another heavy sigh.

"Sorry, you had to be bothered like this. Did you get any sleep last night? What are you even doing staying here?"

"They had to do some emergency plumbing at my place. When I was away on the trip, a pipe had started leaking or something. I caught a couple hours of shut-eye, but don't worry, I doubt I would've slept much either way."

A shiver ran through Tooru and he wrapped the extra blanket the bartender had brought for him last night tighter around his shoulders. They had come out to the hallway to talk so Hajime wouldn't wake up.

"When did he move out?"

"Couple weeks ago."

"Do you think he's been drinking this whole time?

"Yeah, probably. To be honest, I had a feeling things might not go that smooth and I meant to come and check on him, but…" Mattsun rubbed his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. "But then they said that there was something wrong with the baby, and…Everything else just kinda disappeared. And I forgot about him."

"How you guys doing?"

The morning was still young, and the only sounds were their quiet conversation and an early – or late – truck driving on the highway. Mattsun leaned on the rustic metal railing.

"All we can do is take it one day at a time."

"How bad is it? I mean, I'm not saying there's something wrong with – How much do they know?"

"They're still doing tests but it's more like…she has it, but they're trying to find out how severe it is."

"Sounds tough. My cousin has a Down kid. It was hard when all of their future plans were suddenly blown to pieces. I mean, they learned to live with it and of course still love him just the same, but naturally you want your kids to be healthy and able."

Mattsun cleared his throat and straightened himself up. "Yeah, well, it is what is. But what are we gonna do with him? I don't know if the motel will let him stay. Maybe I could talk him into going to a hospital or something."

"For what? The ER's not gonna take him, all he's been doing is drinking. Besides he'd never agree to that."

"Yeah, I know, but I don't feel comfortable leaving him by himself either."

"I can look after him," Tooru's heart made his mouth say before his head had a chance to catch up. "Help to sober him up at least. Maybe he'll be more cooperative with a clear head."

Mattsun shook his head and frowned. "No, I can't ask you a favor that big. You've already done loads. He's not your responsibility, I'll figure something."

"Like what? I think we just ran all the options through. Look, it's no trouble – well, it is, but I don't mind."

"You sure are eager to take care of a guy you barely know."

"Yeah, well, that's partly why I wanna do this."

"What, you like him or something?" Mattsun chuckled.

Tooru shrugged and Mattsun's laughter died. "I don't know, he's been on my mind lately."

"Oh." Mattsun blinked, suddenly out of words.

"I mean, I don't know what you – you know, if you think two guys is – "

"No, no! I'm fine it."

"'Cause you never know with the military guys, most of them are too macho to accept how others live their lives, and he's your best friend, and – "

"Calm down, I'm fine with it." Mattsun smiled a little at Tooru's defensiveness. "You sure picked a guy, but I'm fine with it."

"I do have one thing I wanna ask from you, though."

"Sure, anything."

"What happened to him? In the last tour?"

Mattsun's sneakers shuffled against the cement floor. "Look, I don't think it's really my place to tell."

"But you and all the other guys were there, right? So, it's not like it's a big secret, but still, everyone shuts up about it. Just tell me from your experience, you're allowed to tell your own story, right?"

A silence fell between them, and it stretched for so long Tooru thought he had pushed too much and pissed Mattsun off. Of course, he didn't have a right to poke his private memories, but as long as he was left in the dark his hands were tied.

"I'm sorry for asking but I can't help if – "

"I never really talked about it with Hajime," Mattsun said quietly while staring at the sun rising over the parking lot behind the skyline, "not properly anyway. We never sat down and really talked about it. He's been my best friend since we were little runts, but I never – I just always told him to snap out of it." He turned to look at Tooru, his face twisted in a painful frown. "Some friend am I, huh?"

"You couldn't have – "

"I had just gotten the news that Em was pregnant right before we left for the scouting assignment. Hajime was the first person I told. I asked him to be the baby's godfather – he's already a godfather to the twins, too, and we joked that he's collected the whole series now." Mattsun chuckled quietly. "He told me to stay at the camp, not come with the scouting team. Go and call your wife, he said. Tell her I said congrats and that it's time to close Mattsun's factory already. He knew we had been trying for another kid for a while, perhaps a boy this time, and that I'd resign if we got a bite. I had promised Em, I'd stay home if we got a third kid."

"But I was too jittery to stay put, I needed to take out the energy on something, and scoutings were always pretty smooth operations. I mean, there was a strict curfew in the area, so it was mostly just walking around the camp precinct. Nothing we hadn't done hundreds of times before."

Tooru nodded and hummed in the lulls of Mattsun's story. He was afraid to interrupt him and break the odd aura that had fell over him. It was as in he wasn't even Mattsun anymore, or that he had completely cut himself off the events he was telling Tooru about.

"So, I insisted on going with them, and we got pretty far without any problems. But then, around one bank we heard something, and there's a kid – a little boy, couldn't have been older than a first-grader – in the ditch. He was sitting there in the mud and crying."

Tooru's guts lurched uncomfortably. "He was alone? How did he get there?"

"I don't know, I think they're still looking into it. But somehow, he had gotten separated from his parents. He was crying so hard it was difficult to have any kinda contact with him, not that he would've understood what we said anyway. But you know sometimes kids calm down a bit when you just keep talking to them. Or at them. Not this one though, I think he got even more scared when he saw us."

"We have a protocol how we approach the locals if we encounter them – I mean, you know all that stuff, right? Your dad's been in the military his whole life?"

Tooru nodded. "Yeah."

"But…he was just a little boy, and he was scared out of his mind. And for all we knew, he might have been hurt, too. I think we were all a bit thrown off by the situation, even Hajime even though he was the group leader and as seasoned as I. But he decided that one of us, who turned out to be him, I don't remember why, should take off their gear that could frighten the kid even more and go get him. Bring him to the camp with us and start figuring out what's going on."

Mattsun took a deep breath and was quiet for a long while before continuing. Tooru prayed no one would come to the hallway and shatter their moment.

"I think he got to hold the kid just a few seconds. He slowly walked to him, dropped down into the ditch, picked him up, and – the next moment the ground shook under our feet and there were a flash and a loud bang. Dirt and rock flew everywhere like the ground had sneezed. Hajime and the kid vanished."

"Was it a mine?"

"Yeah. God only knows how the kid hadn't set it off before we got there." Mattsun glanced at Tooru frowning to himself. "I know, I've thought about it, too. I'm sure Hajime as well. What if the kid had been left there as a bait? Because who wouldn't go help a little child, right, and forget to use their head. I've thought about it, but – I'd rather not."

"What happened to the kid?"

"He had no chance of surviving that. I mean, the way Hajime was carrying him, he was like a shield. I think he might've saved Hajime's life, and he only lost his leg. Sure, it's still a leg, but it could've been much worse."

Mattsun quickly wiped his face, and Tooru averted his eyes to give him privacy to collect himself. The sun had come out behind the skyline already, and it seemed like it was going be another beautiful day.

"I was the one who got to him first, and I've never seen anything like that before," Mattsun continued with a gruff voice. "I could hardly recognize his body, he was covered in blood from head to toe. Though much worse was all the – I mean, the kid had exploded in his arms." Mattsun pressed his lips together and swallowed. He looked a little pale.

"It's okay, you don't have tell me all the details."

"I'm gonna need a drink or ten after this."

"They'll be on me, then."

"I thought for sure he was dead because it all looked so gruesome, but when I leaned over to find his pulse or anything, really, his eyes suddenly flew wide open. I don't think he really saw me, he was in a massive shock, but at least he was hanging in there. Scared the crap out of me, though. In the middle of all that bloody mess, there are suddenly two white eyeballs staring." Mattsun frowned in confusion. "You know, I've never told that detail to anyone. Not even the therapist they had us go see."

"Did Hajime do therapy?"

"They tried, but I think it was just too much happening at the same time. The surgery, losing the leg, the physical therapy. And the harder they tried, the more he lashed out. After the hospital was done with him, I went to get him and moved him to our guest room even though he was against it at first. But his apartment was on the fourth floor, and there wasn't an elevator, so he didn't really have a choice."

"And here we are now?"

Mattsun glanced at the window of Hajime's room even though the ugly curtains had been drawn shut. "And here we are now. He drinks, he doesn't sleep until he's so tired he passes out, he has some kinda panic attack problem he thinks I don't know about, he's withdrawn, and he hasn't worn his prosthesis since they discharged him. You sure you still wanna do this?"

"Actually, it helps a lot to know all of that, so thanks for telling me. Let's just get him sober first, one step at a time."

"But are you really sure about this? What about your job?"

"I've had a pretty intense couple of days, so my hand could use some rest anyway. I just need to get him over the first hump and then I can bring him with me to the shop or something."

"He's not gonna like being treated like a kid."

"Good thing I'm not going do that, then"

A ringtone chimed in Mattsun's pocket and they both flinched. Mattson fished out his phone and looked at the screen. "It's Em, I should head back. You, keep me updated okay? And call if there are any problems or if you need anything. And I mean it." He waved the ringing phone at Tooru's face.

"Yeah, yeah, I've got it." Tooru shed the blanket and folded it neatly. "Now, answer that before she has a heart attack or something."

Mattsun accepted the call and headed down to the parking lot. "Hello? No, I'm on my way now, sorry. We'll make it, just be ready when I get there." He waved his silent goodbyes and mouthed his thank yous. "What? No, I'm fine."

When Tooru got back into the room, Hajime was still sound asleep. His deep breathing sounded like a perfect lullaby, and Tooru settled back on the little sofa he had slept in for a while in the small hours before calling Mattsun. The motel was starting to stir awake for a new day, but from now on, they'd have a rhythm of their own.


	5. Chapter 5

Tooru wasn't sure for how long he had slept – the concept of time gets fuzzy easily when you're sleeping in the middle of the day – but he woke up to odd noises like someone was gasping for breath. At first, he thought it was a part of his dream that escaped his memory as soon as he gained consciousness, and he just rolled over on the sofa and closed his eyes again.

The gasping continued, and this time it was definitely coming from the real world around him. Confused and disoriented he raised his head off the lumpy pillow and looked around the room. It sounded like it was coming from –

Oh, shit. The blanket twisted around Tooru's torso and feet and almost tripped him as he dashed to the bed where Hajime was sleeping.

The sight paralyzed him with fright at first. Hajime was on his back, just like Tooru had seen him before falling asleep, but his whole body was rigid. He was grasping the sheets so tight Tooru could see the taut muscles of his forearms, there was a wild look in his wide eyes as they stared at nothing, and he was sucking in air with such big gasps his whole chest was heaving like a fish on dry land.

Shit, shit, shit. Okay.

"Hajime, Hajime, calm down," Tooru said and sat on the edge of the bed. He tried his best to keep his voice steady and act like he knew what he was doing. Faking confidence always eventually got him there. "Hey, hey – shhh, it's okay, just calm down."

He might as well have told that to the wall, it would have helped the situation just as much. Calm down and _think_ , he told himself instead. He grabbed Hajime's shoulders and gave him a little shake.

"Hajime, listen to me. Can you hear me?" No reaction. Tooru's fingers dug into the soft flesh of the shoulders. "Listen, you're having a panic attack. Whatever you're imagining, it's not real. You're okay. I'm right here, I'm gonna help you, so just..."

Sorry about this…

Nimbly Tooru climbed on top of Hajime and straddled his middle, careful to hold his weight off his stomach. Not giving himself a chance to hesitate he placed his hand over Hajime's gasping mouth and sealed it shut. He could feel the ridge of Hajime's front teeth pressing against the flat of his palm and the angry, warm puffs of air swirling against the side of his hand. All this seemed to finally reach Hajime through the panic haze. His eyes ceased to rapidly roll in their sockets and nailed to Tooru. In passing, Tooru noticed his eyes were so dark brown they were almost black.

"It's okay, you're okay. Just breathe through your nose."

Hajime's fingers clasped around Tooru's forearm and tugged it to try to free his mouth under Tooru's palm.

"I know, I'm sorry, but you gotta calm down. Just calm down."

Hajime's wide eyes narrowed into pleading slits and he tugged Tooru's forearm again, but Tooru held on. It told its own sad story how tightly the terror and panic had Hajime in their pinch because Tooru didn't doubt he could've pushed him off in a fair fight.

"You're okay, everything's fine," Tooru repeated over and over. It was more to calm his own racing heart than Hajime. With his free hand, he reached down to stroke Hajime's hair that oil and sweat had mushed into lumps.

"Shhh, it's okay, you're okay."

As Tooru kept stroking and babbling, the panic in Hajime's eyes slowly cleared and his breathing evened out. The puffs against Tooru's hand fell into a rhythm. The tension of his muscles eased, and he started to tremble under him. He gave Tooru's hand one last tug, and this time Tooru released his hold. Hajime wiped his mouth with shaking hands and closed his eyes.

"You okay?"

"Get off me," Hajime said with a hoarse voice.

"Oh, yeah, sure." Suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed Tooru dismounted Hajime and took his previous seat on the edge of the mattress. "How you feeling?"

"What are ya doing in my room?"

"You passed out at the bar, and I helped to carry you back to your bed. They wanted to call the cops, but I talked them out of it."

Hajime glanced at him like he didn't quite believe Tooru's story. "Thanks. I guess."

"You're welcome. Then I thought I'd clean up a bit."

Hajime's head shot up, and a nasty glare was thrown at Tooru. "You went through my stuff?"

"The air was so thick it was hard to breathe in here! I just got rid of the trash, that's all. Anyway, are you feeling better? You want some water?"

"I'm fine, you can leave now."

"Was that a panic attack? Do you have them a lot?"

"I said I'm fine. Thanks for everything." Hajime covered his eyes with his forearm as if to shut out the whole world. "Now stop bugging me and go back to wherever you came from."

Tooru stood up and walked over to the sink. "No can do. I promised Mattsun I'd help you sober up," he said over the running water as he soaked the kitchen towel.

Hajime was silent for a while before rising to the bait. "Mattsun was here? When?"

"Earlier in the morning. You were still out of it. We talked a little, and – "

"What did you talk about?" Hajime interrupted him and rose to lean back against his elbows.

Tooru wrung the towel and went back to the bed. "This and that. The baby, you." He reached to pat Hajime's sweaty throat and face with the cool towel, but Hajime pulled back and pushed Tooru's hand away.

"What did he say?"

"He was sorry he hadn't been visiting you as he promised." For a moment, Tooru hesitated whether or not he should tell Hajime about the baby. "It's just that they did some routine tests at the clinic, and it seems like there's something wrong with the baby. They think she might be born disabled."

The annoyance between Hajime's brows melted away to give room for worry. "Was he alright?"

"He looked tired but otherwise fine. It's gonna be a big change for the whole family, but – well, there's not much anyone can do about it."

"I should give him a call."

"How about we give them some room? I understand that you're worried, but – and I know this sounds blunt – but your situation seems to just add to his burden." Tooru braced for the angry blow, and Hajime's face darkened again.

"How about stay out of other people's business? This has nothing to do with you."

"Yeah, it does, he's my friend, too. And I promised to help him. He has enough on his plate right now to have time to deal with you, and deep down, you know I'm right."

Hajime's eyes narrowed and his lips pursed.

"Now, whether you like it or not, I'm gonna keep my promise and help you sober up. If you wanna be there for Mattsun, I suggest you get on with the program." Tooru knew guilt-tripping wasn't fair, but it seemed like fair hadn't really worked so far. "And we're gonna start by changing the sheets and getting you some dry clothes, you sweated buckets. Here, wipe yourself a little while I'll go to my room to get dry sheets and clothes. I assume it's been a while since you've done any laundry."

Before Hajime could argue Tooru was out the door and he was left in the bed holding a soaked kitchen towel. For a while, he was tempted to limp to the door and lock it, but he didn't trust his feet to carry him yet. Not that it would have mattered anyway, Tooru would have just gotten the clerk to open the door for him. Because apparently, they had all joined forces and ganged up against Hajime. Like he had ever asked for anyone's concern.

Mattsun flashed in Hajime's mind, and his defiant shoulders sunk. No matter how hard Hajime wanted to fight him, Tooru had been right. If he wanted Mattsun to rely on him, he needed to be reliable, and right now – well, for a while now – he had been anything but. Mattsun's life was about to change its course entirely, and Hajime wasn't going to let him face that alone even if it meant he had to put up with his nosy friend.

By the time Tooru got back Hajime had wiggled out of his wet clothes sticky with sweat and wiped himself with the cold towel. When the door opened, he hurriedly pulled the blanket to cover his nakedness and the leg.

"Oh." Tooru's steps halted and he quickly averted his eyes.

"You don't know how to knock?!"

"Sorry."

"It's still my room, you know."

"I said I'm sorry! Geez." He tossed the fresh t-shirt and a pair of boxers to him. "Here, I think these should fit." While Hajime changed Tooru turned around and listened to the bed creaking and rustling of clothes.

"Done."

Hajime had dragged himself to the dry side of the bed, and Tooru set to change the sheets. He tried not to pay attention to how good Hajime looked in his plain black shirt even in his disheveled state or that the blanket was still covering everything below his waist. He could make out the outlines of his foot and a half. The blanket fell unnaturally flat where there should have been the rest of his right leg.

"You wanna talk about the panic attack?"

Hajime scoffed. "I'm tired and hungover, so either get out or shut up." He flopped down and turned his back to Tooru. He was facing the mirror doors of the wardrobe, and Tooru caught his reflection looking at him. When their eyes met, Hajime quickly averted his gaze.

"If you need anything, let me know. I'm gonna go get rid of these," he said to the stubborn back, bundled the wet beddings under his arm and went to look for the laundry shaft.


	6. Chapter 6

Like anything in life, the beginning was the hardest part, and Hajime hit the first hump hard. He was determined to go cold turkey and cut all the booze at once. The hangover and shakes made him bedridden, and Tooru had his work cut out for him. It seemed Mattsun had been right about his guess that Hajime had been drinking the whole time after he had moved out.

"We should get some food into you," Tooru said while checking the fridge he had stocked the previous day. "When was the last time you ate?"

"Not hungry," came a muffled reply from the bed.

"I could make a broth my mom always made when I was sick."

"Not. Hungry."

"It's more like a drink anyways, so let's give it a try."

He piled the small kitchenette tabletop with ingredients (onions, garlic, carrots, potatoes, fresh ginger, and some spices), and soon the room was filled with rhythmic chopping. Tooru hummed to himself a tune his mother had often sung. The door of their room was ajar because the AC wasn't working, and as Tooru began to boil the vegetables, the mouthwatering aroma spread to the hallway. An occasional passer-by quickly glanced in their room.

As the soup was simmering, Tooru sat at the end of Hajime's bed. "How you feeling?"

Hajime buried his face deeper into his pillow. "Could you stop asking me that every two seconds? How do you think I'm feeling? Like crap."

"You want something for the pain?"

"They don't help," Hajime mumbled. "And it's not really pain, or at least not the kind you could cure with pills. It just feels like I'm dying."

"Dying isn't painful?"

"Has anyone ever told you, you talk too much?"

Tooru smiled to himself. "My dad always said that. He was the strong silent type, you kinda remind me of him. He was in the military, too, in the navy."

That seemed to pique Hajime's interest, and the bed stirred when he rolled over to look at Tooru.

"He was? What was his rank?"

"Admiral."

Hajime's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Yup, served his whole life. His favorite story to tell at dinner was how he managed to sneak in and enlist with a fake ID before he had turned 18. His mother, my grandma, had been furious when she had found out and kicked him out of the house for a while."

Hajime grinned, and Tooru's heart leaped at how he suddenly looked like a mischievous little boy.

"My ma was upset, too, when I enlisted but she came around when I told her Mattsun was going with me. She lectured the poor guy's ears off about how he should make sure we won't get in trouble. I think she secretly wished Mattsun was her son sometimes."

When Tooru didn't answer but just stared, Hajime frowned and the little boy was gone.

"What?"

"Nothing, I just…I think you spoke more words in one go than I've managed to get out of you this whole time."

"Shaddup," Hajime said and threw his familiar death glare at him.

"You're an interesting guy, Iwaizumi Hajime," Tooru said with a grin. "I kinda like you."

The tips of Hajime's ears flared red, and he opened his mouth to no doubt call Tooru stupid or gross or some other insults he seemed to have ready to go at a moment's notice, but nothing came out. He just frowned and kept opening and closing his mouth.

The timer on the kitchen counter went off, and Tooru bounced on his feet.

"Shoot! Gotta check on the soup." He lifted the lid and hissed when the hot metal burned his fingers. Carefully he sipped the hot broth with a big spoon. "Hmm, yummy. I think it's done. You want it mild, medium or hot?" he said over his shoulder as he strained the steaming stock.

"Mild."

"You don't like spicy? I always load mine with hot sauce and ginger."

"I don't like when it burns."

Tooru balanced the hot bowl across the room. "You sound like a little kid," he said and sat next to the bed. "Okay, sit up. Time to eat."

"I can do it myself." Hajime reached for the spoon, but Tooru snatched it away.

"Oh, really? Let's see those hands."

After enough times of Hajime spilling water all over himself, Tooru had enforced the shaky-meter. Before proceeding with anything that required any kind of brain-hand coordination Hajime had to hold his hands in the air for Tooru to assess whether the shaking had eased up enough. This time, too, Hajime reached his hands with an annoyed huff. They were still trembling like leaves in the wind.

"Sorry, but I'm not gonna be responsible for giving you third-degree burns. So, here comes the plane, open wide," Tooru sing-songed. Hajime did not look amused but opened his mouth and swallowed the spoonful.

"How is it? Not too spicy?"

"Hot."

"You want me to blow on it?"

"That'll be the last thing you did. My hands may be shaking and I may be a gimp, but I'll still kick your ass."

"I don't know about that," Tooru said pretending like he didn't believe Hajime and fed him more soup. "I played some serious volleyball in high school and college, almost made it to the national team, so I'm no featherweight."

Hajime wiped some of the soup that had spilled down his chin. "You played sports?"

"Again, you sound just like my dad. He had that same kinda tone when I told him I wanted to join the school team. In his mind, because I didn't wanna join the army a pair of balls was wasted on me."

"You didn't go the army?" Hajime frowned.

"For me, it was just too many people taking themselves too seriously." Tooru shrugged. "And the whole mentality of taking honor and pride in getting seriously hurt made me sick to my stomach."

Hajime dodged and refused the next spoonful Tooru offered him. "You don't think those people deserve respect? They sacrificed a lot to defend you."

Tooru put the spoon down, and it clinked against the bowl. "Of course, they do, I didn't mean it like that. I'm just saying the mentality of the system is twisted and we should maybe tone down the hero discourse a little. It's like some kinda sick maiden call to lure in guys who are too young and stupid to know better and read the small print. They don't even understand the real causes they're fighting for."

"And you do? You sound like some kinda conspiracy theorist."

"Come on," Tooru rolled his eyes, "it's not like every war hasn't been built on some level of propaganda. And sometimes it's been necessary, I know that. Sometimes it's been important to rally the troops and the home front, but you still gotta see through it. Because if you don't, you've basically given up on thinking for yourself."

"So, you're saying I was a fool, too? That I'm in this position now," Hajime waved at his half of a leg which was the first time he had addressed it directly, "because I was 'young and stupid', because they filled my head with bullshit, and afterward it doesn't matter because at least I got to protect my country and the honor of my sacrifice will make it all better?" His voice rose a little. "Does it look like it's all better?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying. You made a big sacrifice and everyone is all very grateful, but in the end, the honor doesn't make up the fact that you'll never walk properly again. But the mentality of wearing your injuries like a badge of honor kills all the questions about whether or not the sacrifices were really necessary or done for the right causes in the first place."

Hajime's eyes narrowed. "I know what I was fighting for, so you need to tone down the condescension. See, I know some big words, too."

"Oh, for god's sake, I didn't – you know what, let's just drop it. We're just gonna have to agree to disagree."

"That's always what the losers say."

Tooru's back tensed and his voice grew cold. "You don't think I know what I'm talking about with all this? I might know it even better than you. My father was in the navy and his father before him. My two younger sisters are all in active duty, halfway across the world. I've lived with the other side of the 'honor' you so desperately cling to my whole life. The moving around, always worrying and missing, the nightmares and snapping when they finally get home and then repeating it all over again when that phone call comes. Always running against the clock, and never having enough time. So, don't you dare say to me none of that matters."

At first, Hajime looked like he wanted to continue arguing, but Tooru's expression must have convinced him otherwise and silently he just opened his mouth. Just as silently Tooru went back to feeding him. The only sounds were the spoon clanking against the bowl and the traffic outside.

"So, what happened with volleyball? Why'd ya quit?" Hajime said when the silence threated to become oppressive.

"I fucked up my knee. Or more like, it was already a bad knee and I made it worse by not giving it enough rest. Then it finally snapped in one game. I jumped to serve, but it couldn't take the landing anymore. Tore the ligaments pretty bad."

"Sounds painful."

"It was only the beginning of painful. They had to operate it, and then I did months of physio just to walk."

"Were you really about to make the national team?"

"The last game I played, the one where I hurt my knee, there was a scout in the audience and he was rumored to be looking for seniors with promise. Later at the hospital, I heard he had come down while I was at the OR and talked to my folks about my situation."

"That must've stung." Hajime backed away when Tooru offered him another spoonful. "I think I've had enough."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, thanks."

Tooru scooped the remaining broth and ate it himself.

"I had always loved two things above everything else: drawing and volleyball. But dad didn't wanna pay for art school, so I went with sports and just scribbled for myself. When it was clear I'd never play again, I kinda changed gear. Got new friends, started drawing more, and found this guy who gave me a part-time job and taught me how to do tattoos."

The warm food settled in the bottom of Hajime's stomach and filled him with languor. His eyelids started to grow heavier.

"I'm gonna go back to sleep," he said and fluffed up his pillow.

"You good? How about those pain meds?"

"Nah, I'm fine."

Hajime looked for a position as comfortable as possible, closed his eyes and listened to Tooru doing the dishes. The clanking of plates dulled by the sink full of dishwater was oddly soothing, and it didn't take long before he nodded off back to his pitiful sleep.

Later he woke up to the sweats and shakes. The sun had gone down, and the room was only dimly lit by the streetlights. His shirt and the sheets stuck to his skin grossly when he rolled over. To his surprise, he bumped into something angular and soft and almost yelled out loud in surprise but in the nick of time bit down on his tongue.

Right next to him on the bed was Tooru lying on his side, facing Hajime. Judging by his deep, even breathing he was sound asleep. Hajime found himself staring at his sleeping face. The top of his undercut had fallen over to the other side into a fluffy mess of hair. Just now Hajime noticed the piercing holes on his left earlobe. He counted five. Tooru's lips were slightly parted, and his neck stretched out long and thin. Hajime was tempted to touch the fair skin with the tips of his fingers to see if it would really be as smooth as it looked.

Yeah, you're a pretty interesting guy, too, he thought to himself in the darkness.


	7. Chapter 7

"I wanna take a shower," Hajime said on the fourth day.

They had lazed in bed the whole afternoon. Hajime had been drifting in the no man's land between sleep and awake, dozing off and listening to the rasping of Tooru's pens against the rough paper. He had whipped out his sketchbook and drawn quick sketches of their room and his favorite comic characters. He had shown some of them to Hajime, and it couldn't be denied he was talented.

"You sure?"

"I stink, and my skin itches from all the sweating. The cold rug baths just aren't cutting it anymore."

"How about I draw you a bath instead of a shower? Soaking could be nice, right? And I don't want ya splitting your head open on the slippery tiles."

"Whatever, just get me some hot water and soap."

Hajime stretched with a satisfied groan and swung his legs over the edge of the mattress. Blood rushed to his head, and he closed his eyes and waited for the floating sensation to ease. Tooru touched his shoulder tentatively.

"Maybe we should just – "

"No, damn it," Hajime shook the hand off, "I'm sick and tired of stewing in my own juices."

Carefully he leaned heavily on the crutches and hoisted himself up. The rubber handles pressing against his palms felt familiar. Standing on his feet after being horizontal for so long was unstable at first, but soon his body remembered how to negotiate the crutches and support his weight. He teetered to the bathroom through the narrow doorway, and Tooru hovered right behind him. Hajime sat on the toilet and started to pull off his clothes while Tooru ran the bath.

As the tub was filling up, Tooru took off his shirt and stripped down to his boxers.

"What are ya doing?"

"I don't want my clothes to get wet."

"Why would they get wet if you're sitting in the bedroom? I'll call you when I'm ready."

"You're gonna need help with washing your back, and I've been told I give very good head massages."

"I'm good, thanks."

Tooru sighed in frustration. "My god, why does everything have to be such a battle with you?"

"Because I can do it myself!"

"And I'm saying I just wanna make sure!"

"I've been able to wash myself just fine without your supervision my whole life, so…"

Tooru's hand plunged underwater and gave the chain of the plug a little tug. "That's it, I'm holding the bath hostage. You either get in now or I swear to god, I will drain all that lovely hot water."

"I'm getting sick of you constantly telling me what to do and deciding things for me. I'm better, okay? So, I don't need you looking over my shoulder every second."

"Fine, I promise I'll lay off." Tooru rolled his eyes. "After you take your bath."

Hajime gave a low, frustrated groan. "You're so impossible! Sometimes I just wanna…" he said and made a gesture of wringing his fingers around Tooru's imagery neck.

"You getting in or not?"

"Fine," Hajime pressed between clenched teeth. He hooked his thumbs behind the waistband of his boxers but stopped when he saw Tooru looking at him. "A little privacy maybe?"

"It's not like I haven't seen a dick before," Tooru mumbled but turned around.

Finally, stark naked Hajime braced against the bathtub and hopped the short distance from the toilet. The edge of the tub dug into the back of his thighs when he lifted his legs over. Slowly he lowered himself in the hot foamy water. A satisfied sigh escaped between his lips as he leaned back and the water rose to meet him in the middle.

Tooru wiggled himself to sit between the bathroom wall and Hajime's back. His shins pressed against Hajime's sides as he sat between his knees. Hajime caught a sight of a long, vertical scar running over Tooru's right knee. Its lines were fuzzy, and it was of a lighter tone than the rest of the skin.

"Does that hurt?"

"What, the knee? Not really. It gets a bit stiff if I sit for too long, but that's about it. But sometimes it locks up, and that hurts."

Tooru reached for the shower and soaked Hajime's hair before lathering it with shampoo. His long fingers buried deep into the foam and stroked the itching scalp. Foam and soap water trickled down Hajime's forehead, and he closed his eyes. It felt good to scrub all the dried sweat and oiliness finally clean. Tooru's fingertips worked through every inch of his scalp, and Hajime started to relax against his legs.

"Feels good, right? Told ya I'm good at this."

"Yeah, yeah."

"What about you? Does your leg hurt?"

"Sometimes."

"I think they call it phantom pains or something. The human body is so weird. I read somewhere that some amputees even say they feel like they can move the limb normally even though it's not really there."

Phantom limb, Hajime thought to himself. A part of me has already died and is now haunting me. Maybe I should call an exorcist or something. He chuckled a little.

Tooru's fingers stopped moving. "What?"

"Nothing"

"Did I say something funny?"

"In your dreams."

"Alright, I'm done with your hair. Lean forward a bit." He nudged between Hajime's shoulders.

A rough sponge Tooru had dipped in the bathwater started rubbing his back in little circles. It worked its way down from the shoulders, dipped to the front to scrub the neck and over the collarbones, and stroked up and down along the spine. It felt both good and bad at the same time. Hajime wanted to pull away from the roughness but at the same time lean into it. The more Tooru rubbed, the more his skin began to tingle and burn.

Completely lost in the moment and sensations Hajime didn't pay attention when Tooru moved from scrubbing his back to rub his arms and front. Obediently he let himself be manhandled, his limbs maneuvered and just sat there slack and heavy like a wet rug.

His mind didn't catch up until the sponge brushed the thigh. Hajime was snapped back to reality, and his whole body jerked awake at once. Tooru was just about to reach the knee when Hajime grabbed him by the forearm. The water, disturbed by Hajime's sudden movements, sloshed almost over the brim.

"That's enough," Hajime said with a gruff voice.

"I'm just going to wash it, and I'm using the softer side of the sponge, so – "

"Don't." Hajime's grip around Tooru's forearm tightened.

"It's okay, it's just skin," Tooru's voice lowered as he leaned closer to Hajime who sat there frozen, "the same skin that's on your back, your shoulders, your belly, the bottom of your feet, even your dick. It's no different."

Again, Tooru tried to slide his hand further down, but Hajime's iron grip didn't budge.

"I said don't."

"Okay. Then you help me, alright? Help me wash it."

He loosened Hajime's hold and switched the sponge to his hand and guided it towards the amputated leg. He could hear the growing agitation in Hajime's breathing and feel the resistance in his muscles.

"Please, don't."

"You're fine, we're doing great. I'm not touching anything you're not touching, okay?"

They inched past the bumpy kneecap. Tooru moved on slowly in small circles. The pressure of the sponge was subtle and gentle but it was there.

"You know, I was just like you when they operated my knee," Tooru kept talking all the while edging closer to the stump. "I looked at the red scar and stitch marks and was disgusted. I didn't want anyone to see it – hell, I could barely look at it myself – not to even mention touching it. It was ugly and gross and would be there forever."

They had almost reached the edge of the stump, just a little bit more. Hajime was stiff as a stick but yielded to Tooru's hand like those little dolls you can twist in different positions.

"After the surgery, I used to hate my own body, especially my leg. Hated it, wanted to cut it off. It had betrayed me and ruined my future. I was flawed because of it. There was an error in me and the scar would forever mark the glitch."

Tooru pushed Hajime's hand to follow the curve of the stump for the first time, and Hajime cringed and tried to pull back. Tooru complied but again when they closed the edge of the stump he guided Hajime to brush all the way to the end.

"But then I met this woman who had had open-heart surgery, and she was wearing a pretty summer dress with a cleavage like she wasn't bothered by her scar at all. The thing was, she didn't actually have a scar. Well, she did, but it was covered with a tattoo. It was a picture of a flowering tree branch. The outlines of the tree went around the scar, and it looked like the little red flowers were blooming out of the old wound. It was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. That's when I decided I wanna do tattoos."

They gave the leg one last sweep with the sponge before Tooru finally released Hajime's hand.

"You did good," he said and stroked Hajime's wet, soapy shouldres. "You did really good. Did it hurt?"

"Yes." Hajime withdrew from Tooru's touch. "It hurts. Why do ya always have to do that?"

"Do what?"

"Talk. You never shut up about anything, just talk and talk and talk. I don't wanna hear any of that stuff."

"Why? Because it hurts?"

"You're always probin' and diggin' everything till there's nothing left that you don't fucking know about!" Hajime's raised voice bounced off the bathroom walls. "And you never ask if I wanna talk about it, no, you just push and push…"

Tooru didn't say anything, just sat there and watched Hajime's tense back. A wall that rejected and isolated to shield whatever was inside. It had been built with care and even the smallest gaps had been sealed. Tooru had been chipping away at that wall for days, and this was the first time there seemed to be a crack.

"I'm sorry if you didn't want to talk. But peer support can help, and I figured if I told what I went – "

"Your knee and my leg are not the same, not even close. So, you can't play sports anymore, so fucking what? I can't walk anymore."

"Yeah you can, you just don't want to. Because you're scared."

The wall of muscle twisted and strained when Hajime half spun around. Some of the water sloshed over the edge and splashed on the floor.

"What did you just say?"

"Sure, there are some things you can't do anymore, but you've convinced yourself you can't do anything. Why is that? Are you punishing yourself for something? You're not somehow allowed to be happy anymore, is that it?"

Hajime's face was frozen in fury, and for a while, Tooru thought he'd lash out and slam him against the wall.

"Shut up, you don't know anything about me so shut the hell up."

"I know what happened to you, Mattsun told me."

"He what?!"

"But don't be mad at him, I put him on a spot. He told me because he thought it'd help."

Hajime slumped back down. "So," there was an audible tremble in his voice now, "you know? You've known this whole time?"

"Yes."

"Then what're ya still doing here?" Hajime mumbled and turned to face the wall again.

For a while, Tooru sat in silent confusion. He didn't know how to answer that or what Hajime had meant by it. To let the atmosphere calm down a bit he pulled the plug and turned on the shower to rinse them off. The grey soap water gurgled down the drain as Tooru doused off Hajime who had seemed to be back to his passive self.

It was as if he was peeling off a vegetable. Now that all the dirt and dead skin had been soaked and scrubbed off, Hajime looked raw and vulnerable as he sat under the harsh, unforgiving fluorescent light. His shoulders were hunched, his black hair dripping, and the disfigured right leg looked naked against the cold white of the tub.

Before Hajime got cold Tooru covered him with a big fluffy towel and started to gently rub his hair dry. His silence scared Tooru a bit, and he worried if he had gone too far this time.

"I'm sorry if I forced you to do something you weren't ready for. I just wanted to help you."

"Do you think it's ugly?" Hajime's quiet question was almost muffled by the towel.

"I don't."

"Do you think I did the wrong thing? Do you think I got that kid…that he's…because of me?"

Tooru sild his hand under the helm of the draping towel to stroke Hajime's face. His thumb brushed something wet, but he wasn't sure if it was from the shower or if Hajime was crying.

"No, I don't think that. Never did."

"Do you think I'm still worth it?"

Tooru pressed his lips against the towel-covered head and closed his eye. "You're worth everything,"


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning Hajime woke up and noticed two things. Firstly, for the first time since he had cut the drinking, he felt even remotely like a human being. He didn't have the urge to throw up, a massive hangover aching all over, and he knew what day it was. It had been a painful struggle, but life was finally flowing back into his veins.

Secondly, and perhaps more pressingly, he found Tooru nestled behind him. His warm breathing puffed against Hajime's neck and tickled the wisps of hair. There was a possessive arm wrapped around Hajime's middle, and another pair of legs tangled with his.

The memories of the previous night flashed through his sleep-hazed mind, and he silently cringed in embarrassment. Once he had given in an inch, suddenly all of it had needed to gush out. He had completely broken down while still sitting in the empty tub and cowering under the towel. All he could've done was to catch a breath between shaky sobs and let the bottled-up emotions wash over him again and again like waves crashing on the shore. Tooru had kneeled on the hard tile floor and silently embraced him. For once he hadn't asked anything.

Careful not to wake Tooru up Hajime untangled himself and reached for the crutches on the floor. Sleeping nestled next to a human furnace the whole night in a room with no working AC had made him sweaty and sticky. He limped to crack open the front door, and the cool early morning breeze caressed his overheated skin.

Sun's first pale rays made him see red through his eyelids, and he could already feel the promise of hot midday swelter. Slowly he stretched his body, and everything snapped, crackled, and popped back into its right place. He left the door open to get some fresh air into the room and sat back down on the edge of the bed. Automatically, his gaze wandered to study Tooru's sleeping face.

His hair was a mess, there were flakes of dried drool on his chin, and Hajime bet there were deep sleep wrinkles where the pillow mushed his cheek. Still, he couldn't help but find some odd cuteness in him. Even so early in the morning. Or maybe it was precisely because it was so early.

Before he could think he reached to stroke Tooru's hair. The smooth and thick locks slid between his fingers. He brushed the smooth cheek, and Tooru stirred and his nose scrunched up. Hajime snatched his hand back like the touch had burned.

"'s wron'?" Tooru mumbled and rubbed his cheek.

"Nothing, go back to sleep. It's still early."

The brown eyes cracked open and blinked at him in the morning light. "Were you watching me sleep?"

Hajime's ears burned. "Of course, I wasn't," he muttered and pretended to be interested in the curtains.

His thumbing heard almost jumped out his chest when Tooru reached to grab his hand and guided it to cup to his face again. Embarrassed he tried to tug himself free, but Tooru held on and pressed the flat of Hajime's palm tighter against his cheek.

"It's okay," he said with a soft morning smile. "I'm good with this if you are."

"Yeah," Hajime croaked. The burning of his ears intensified, and he cleared his throat. "Yeah, I'm good, too."

~~oOo~~

"So, how do you use this thing?"

Hajime had just stepped out of the bathroom and was ready to turn in when he saw Tooru sprawled on the bed and examining Hajime's prosthesis. Hurriedly he limped over to snatch it back, but Tooru saw him coming a million miles away and easily dodged him.

"Give it back, and don't touch my stuff!"

"What's this thing? It looks scary," Tooru poked the black pin of the liner and his eyes widened, "Does this go into your leg?!"

"Of course not, stupid. Now give it here."

"This feels funny, kinda sticky." He felt the silicone inner surface of the liner. "Oh, I see! It works like a suction cup? But how you get the leg to – " His forehead wrinkled in confusion.

"Hey, give it back!" Hajime tried to lunge (for what it was worth) for the prosthesis, but again Tooru escaped his hands. He jumped off the bed and put a safe distance between them.

"I'll give it back if ya show me how it works."

"It's not yours, so put it back where you took it. I'm not kiddin'."

"Oh, please, you should know by now I'll just keep buggin' ya until you show me, so you might as well do it now."

Hajime gritted his teeth and balled his fists. "Fine," he spat, "give it to me, then."

Tooru grinned. "Nice try. Just tell me what part you need first. The faster you do, the sooner we can go to bed."

With a deep suffering sigh, Hajime sat down and lifted his stump on the edge of the bed. "Give me the thing with the pin."

He turned the silicone tube inside out and pressed the flat cup against the stump. Making sure there were no air bubbles inside he rolled it over his leg. It came up to the mid-thigh. The pin was pointing out at the bottom of the stump.

Tooru giggled. "It looks like a mini peg leg pirates always have. A tiny pirate."

"Shut up or I'll poke you with it. It might be small, but it hurts like a bitch. Now the socks."

Tooru handed him the white tubes of socks, and Hajime smoothed them over the liner.

"Do they make it fit better? Like when you have to put extra socks in your skates?"

"That's the idea. The leg usually starts shrinking at some point, and it can take a long time to find a socket that fits. The last piece is the leg."

Hajime bent his knee up to his chest and slid the stump into the socket of the prosthesis. Awkwardly he stuffed and pushed it deeper like he was trying to pull on a shoe with its laces still tied. When the stump was in he stood up and started to shuffle in place and put weight on the prosthesis, trying to cram it deeper.

Tooru couldn't take his eyes off the process and leaned closer. "But how does it stick?"

"I just gotta – " Hajime kept shuffling, and the prosthesis started to click and clack every time he put weight on it. "There. The pin goes into the little hole in the leg and locks it."

"Wow, that's so cool. I've always wondered how they keep the leg attached." He got down on his knees in front of Hajime and knocked on the prosthesis. "How does it work if you need to sit down? Does it bend, too?"

Hajime took a seat on the bed and the silicone liner followed the movements of the knee naturally. "The socket only comes up to the knee, or under it, so it doesn't matter."

"The foot part looks weird."

"People usually wear a shoe on it."

"If I had one I'd totally wear mismatching shoes on purpose," Tooru said with a wicked grin. He bent down to inspect the ankle joint. "Imagine the engineering going into this."

Hajime shifted uncomfortably under the sudden microscope. "So, now you know. Happy? Can we drop this now?"

Tooru's interest showed no signs of being satisfied, quite the opposite. The more Hajime demonstrated, the more he wanted to know. His hand slid up and down the smooth surface of the prosthesis as he felt the material.

"It feels…," he said with a low voice, "I dunno, a bit alien. Foreign. Like, it tries to act like all the other body parts but not quite getting there. Like an idiom used wrong."

"What the hell are you babbling about?"

The hand inched up until it reached the border where Hajime's knee and the socket met. The nimble fingers pulled back the elastic sock to reveal the liner underneath.

"This is like a no-man's land. It's yours but not yours at the same time."

The fingers traveled ever upwards until they brushed the skin of the thigh. Hajime swallowed when he felt the light touches and balled the bed sheets in his fists.

"You have really smooth skin, soft but I can feel the strength underneath."

Hajime's eyes had locked on the thin fingers caressing his thigh, and he startled a little when Tooru suddenly looked up at him. His eyes were wide with excitement.

"Would you let me tattoo you down here?"

"Wha – I don't – "

"I've been working on this one piece for a while now and I think it'd be a perfect fit. I didn't know how it all worked but now I know it'd be perfect. It's really – wait, I'll show ya."

He sprung to his feet and pulled a thick sketchbook out of the pile of many. Hurriedly, as if he couldn't wait for another second, he flicked through the rustling pages until he found what he was looking for.

"Here, what do ya think? It's the one on the left, the bigger one." He shoved Hajime the violently folded notebook.

The page was full of pencil lines and figures but on the left Hajime could make out a sketch of a tiger creeping forwards. He looked at the sketch acutely aware that Tooru was closely monitoring his face.

"Well? What do ya think? You don't like it? What don't you like, the style, the pose?"

"No, I – it's a beautiful picture, but…" Hajime's eyes wandered on the page covered in sketches of different poses of big cats. Ovals and circles connected with straight lines. Scales and measurements.

"If you want to change something, it's fine. It should be the way you want it, of course."

"There's nothing wrong with the picture, but to be honest I wasn't thinking of getting a tattoo. I've never thought of getting one. It's a pretty drawing but it doesn't really…mean anything to me."

Tooru's nervous posture slumped and the excitement in his voice flattened. "Oh. Yeah, of course, that makes sense. I got carried away all on my own, sorry."

Hajime frowned. "What's with that face? You've been pestering me for almost a week about everything but now you just give up even though you've worked hard for this? I said it doesn't mean anything to me, so why don't you explain it to me then? Sell it to me."

"It's okay. Tats don't really work that way. You should only get it if you want it. After all, it's gonna be on your skin for the rest of your life."

As soon as the words passed Tooru's lips, something clicked in Hajime's mind.

"Why'd ya pick a tiger?"

"It's fine, let's just go to bed." Tooru reached for the notebook, but Hajime pulled away.

"But I'm curious now."

Tooru glanced at him as if to make sure Hajime was serious and then the fired-up look returned as he started to ramble with excited hand gestures. "Because they're strong but they're strong on their own. They don't have a pack or pride. Yet, they could kill other big predators with one strike. They have an immense life force. Like, did you know there are some cases a tiger has been shot but it remained standing even after it's dead? But even if they're big and strong, they're cunning and rely on stalking their prey. They can't chase down the animals for long distances so they gotta use their head."

"So…you like tigers?"

"I do, but…they also kinda remind me of you." Tooru glanced at Hajime again, and for the first time, he looked almost shy.

Hajime was taken aback and awkwardly stroked his neck. His ears were starting to warm up. "Oh. Uh, well, I guess there are worse animals to compare yourself to."

"You're big and strong and have gone through some pretty horrible things, yet you're still standing."

"Okay, okay, I got it." He looked at the sketch again and he could see some soul hidden behind the fierceness now. The big cat looked at him with wisdom and secrets. He glanced at Tooru fidgeting in front of him. "You said I could do some changes if I wanted?"

"Sure, it's for you, so…"

"I wanna add something. Get me a pen, and I'll show ya. I can't draw for shit but I'm sure you'll get what I'm going for."


	9. Chapter 9

The fluorescent light quivered to life when Tooru flipped the switch of the back room of the tattoo studio. Compared to the cozy and decorated entrance lobby the backroom was bare. In the middle of the floor there was a black leather chair and stool on wheels. Next to the chair was a movable small counter, and in the corner was a table loaded with all kinds of little boxes and bottles. One of the walls was painted bright red and had a couple of pictures in frames.

"God, it feels good to be out of the room finally," Tooru said, tossed his keys on the table and draped his jacket on the little coat hanger that was revealed behind the door. He dug out his glasses and put them on. "I'ma trace the picture, you just relax and think happy thoughts in the meanwhile."

Last night they had stayed up late sketching and finishing the design. While Tooru was making the stencil, Hajime took a closer look at the pictures on the wall. The first one was obviously a family portrait. A stern looking older man in a navy uniform had his arm around the waist of a smiling woman next to him. His chest seemed heavy with medals. On the other side of the woman Hajime recognized Tooru who was taller than his parents. In front of the trio were two younger women both on their knee and also wearing navy uniforms. In the background peeked a big white house.

Next to the portrait was a horizontal picture of a sports team, and Hajime guessed it must have been Tooru's volleyball team. A group of tall guys all grinning at the camera. The picture had been cut out off a newspaper, and the caption read: "The wide smiles of AJ's team after the game. The captain and pinch server Oikawa Tooru (second row, third on the right) steered his team to yet another victory.". The picture-Tooru was flashing a peace sign and had his arm around another guy with pink hair.

"What's a pinch server?" Hajime hollered to the lobby.

"They're put on the court when the team is in desperate need of points. Like, if they're about to lose and the game needs to be turned around before it's too late."

"So, you were some kinda hotshot?"

"Nah, I rarely played that position. Serves were my thing for sure, but I was the setter. I planned and set all the plays."

So, a hotshot, Hajime thought to himself but didn't comment further.

The third and last picture was of hands, and on the inside of the wrists were tattoos of old trees. One on the left wrist was green and luxuriant. The colors looked like they had been painted with watercolors the way they had no clear lines and the pigment distribution was uneven. The tree on the right wrist looked the same except that it was bare, just the black trunk and thin branches. Compared to the other one it looked dead or at least dying. The skin around the tattoos was red and glistening in the flash like they were freshly inked. Hajime leaned closer to the picture, he had seen those trees before.

"Is this your hands? The tree tattoos?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, they were the first ones I ever got," Tooru said and came back with a big piece of what looked like wax paper. It had blue lines all over it.

"Why they're different?" Hajime figured they had long ago decided not to bother with courtesy of not prying each other's personal memories.

Tooru stood next to him and looked at the picture. "After the surgery I started having these, I dunno, kinda seasons I guess you'd call them. Like mentally. One day I'd be happy and productive and the next I could barely get out of the bed. The dark seasons didn't last that long at first, like a week or two, but after a while they stretched longer and longer. Until once I had really rough six months – not having energy to do anything and studies and everything went seriously downhill – and it all got to be a bit too much. Somehow, I pushed it through, but that time really scared me. I had never been like that. So, I thought I'd get myself a little reminder if I ever ended up in the same place again. That you just need to wait it out because it always gets better at some point. Sometimes it's sooner, sometimes later, but it always does."

"So, are you…better now?"

"I guess. I haven't had an episode for about two years. It's not all rainbows and sunshine but it's alright. Anyway, I finished the tracing. Ya ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, I guess."

Tooru grinned and went over to the table. "It's gonna be fine. Why don't ya take off your pants and hop on onto the chair."

"Does that thing have a lock?" Hajime nodded at the door.

"We're closed today so no one should come by. Now come on."

With some difficulties Hajime shed his pants and hoisted himself into the high chair.

To Hajime there seemed to be a ton of preparations to be done before Tooru even touched his skin. He began to set his station on the smaller table on wheels. Bottles and electric cords were covered with plastic bags and tubes, and gun parts were screwed together. Packages of sterile needles, a disposable razor, a sharpie, a pair of scissors, and little plastic cups were laid on the table. From various bottles of ink Tooru poured black, red, and white colors into the cups. There was a whole new kind of concentration on his face that Hajime hadn't seen before.

"Okay, ready to roll? You feeling good?" Tooru pulled a pair of black gloves on. "Got any allergies I should know about? Fear of needles?"

"Shouldn't you have asked those before doing all that?"

"I just don't want ya to pass out on me and make me screw up."

"My leg's been blown clean off, you think I'm afraid of a little needle?"

The little plastic package rustled as Tooru popped a sterile needle out of its wrappers and attached it to the gun with what seemed like a rubber band. A big dollop of milky colored wax was swept on the edge of the table. The stool was pushed closer, and the leg of Hajime's boxer briefs rolled up. Hajime flinched at the sudden touch.

"Relax, it's nothing I ain't seen before."

Before placing the stencil, the area was shaved and cleaned. With firm, flat movements Tooru pressed the blue prints from the paper onto the thigh and carefully pulled it off.

"Check and make sure it's the way you want it. Is the position good? Is it straight? There's no return after this."

Hajime inspected the print. "Looks good to me."

The gun gave a couple test buzzes, and Tooru leaned over Hajime's thigh. "I'ma make a little line at first, so you can see how you like it."

Tooru tightened the skin, and the gun buzzed again. It felt like something sharp was pressed down and dragged against the skin. It hurt a little – he could definitely feel something was going on – but it wasn't as bad as he had thought.

"There, how's that?"

Hajime looked at the little black line on his skin. He was a marked man now. "It's not too bad, I think I'll survive."

"The thigh is a quite sensitive place, and it's gonna feel more the closer we get to the knee. Let me know if ya need a break."

With the side of his thumb Tooru pushed his glasses up and set to work, and it soon became clear he hadn't been kidding about the sensitivity. The little sample hadn't really hurt that much, but now that the needle started to hammer the skin in earnest it looked like this could turn out to be a long session.

"It sometimes helps to just concentrate on breathing and tap a finger or something. Just don't move your leg."

As the needle kept irritating the skin it began to tingle and burn. It became more sensitive to Tooru's touch than the needle itself. Every time Hajime was just about to get somewhat used to the pain, Tooru stopped to wipe off the excess ink and painfully rubbed the burning skin. To distract himself Hajime stared at the ceiling and counted the cracks zigzagging across the white paint.

"So, how come you haven't gotten any tattoos before? The military takes their ink quite seriously, and you've been with them for years."

"I dunno, just never felt like it. Guys got them as mementoes, but I knew what I had done and that was enough. I thought they were as useless as you think honor is."

"I never said it was useless, I said it was used to trick people into thinking a certain way and to keep them quiet. I've been doing this for years, and a lot of military folks have come and gone through those doors. Each and every one of them should take great honor in what they have done but in their own terms. They shouldn't settle with the honor the government tries to sell them."

"Your admiral dad must've loved you."

Tooru's concentrated frown gave away to a small smile. "We were both stubborn, so you can only imagine. But I know he loved me and was even proud of me deep down. The most important thing to him was to believe in your cause, whatever it was, and get off your ass to fight for it. I learned to never give up because of him. But in all seriousness, what made you change your mind?"

"I met this really stubborn, pain-in-the-ass guy who said I was like a tiger, and he had already drawn the picture and everything, so what can you do in that situation other than get the damn thing."

"Wow, he sounds like a really hardworking, awesome guy doing all that for you."

Hajime was quiet for a while and listened to the steady buzz. "Last night you said that I should be the one making the decisions about the design because it's gonna be on my skin for the rest of my life. And I realized that I'd given up the control because I thought I hadn't had it in the first place. Someone had come and mutilated my body for good and there had been nothing I could've done about it, so I just gave up and rolled over. Well, now _I_ decide, and I wanna do something that reminds me of it."

Tooru straightened his back and wiped the skin. While he inspected the work, he also stole a glance at Hajime.

"So, it's not a memento? Not a badge of honor?"

"Maybe one day."

"Can I – and you don't have to tell me if you don't wanna – but can I ask you about the accident? Like, do you remember what happened? When Mattsun told me about it, it sounded like a hell of a blow."

"I don't really remember anything about that day. Everything I know has been told to me by other people, so it's kinda weird. I came to with just one leg, but I had no idea what happened. Or more like, I don't have any memories of my own."

The needle was dipped in the black ink cup, and the gun continued to buzz as another inch of skin was pricked. Hajime frowned when Tooru's finger once again rubbed the irritated skin. Each wipe of the paper towel revealed a new patch of skin that would never be the same again.

"But when I fall asleep some of it comes back to me, but I can't be sure if those are real either."

"Is that when you have those panic attacks?"

"Yeah."

"You scared the crap out of me. I've never seen anything like that. I mean, I know dad had nightmares and anxiety sometimes, but mom made always sure we never really saw it. It looked scary."

Hajime swallowed. "Yeah."

"So, what do you remember in your sleep?"

When Hajime didn't answer, Tooru back-pedaled. "Sorry. I know I'm nosy, you don't have to tell me…"

"It's just feelings for the most part," Hajime said quietly. "I don't really see anything, it's just darkness, but I can feel I'm pinned down by something. There's a solid weight on my chest, and it's warm. Like, _alive_ warm. And I can't feel my limbs."

"Is it like those sleep paralysis things?"

"I don't know. All I know is, I have this growing urge to get it – whatever it is – off me right that second, but I can't move a muscle. It creeps me out and fills my head with these…flashes."

"Flashes?"

"Yeah, I never remember them when I wake up."

The tone of Hajime's voice made Tooru think he wasn't telling the whole truth but decided not to push for more. He moved on from the lines to shading and coloring. The hard needle switched to a softer one. Sharpness to a burning. Steady-handed, precise strokes to tiny circles whisking the ink into the skin.

"Have you ever talked to anyone about the nightmares? Like a doctor or something?"

"Mattsun told me to go see someone, but I never went. You may not have noticed, but I'm not that big on sharing. As long as talking couldn't give me my leg back, I didn't see a point in sobbing about it to some stranger with a fancy degree. But of course, I could see I was still taking it all out on someone, whoever happened to cross my way. For the most times it was Mattsun. I put him and Em, and the kids too, through a lot."

"To me he seemed more worried than upset, though."

"Yeah, I dunno, I said some shitty things. I was angry and jealous. It wasn't fair. On some fucked up level I blamed it all on him. He was about to leave the army and me and go live his happy family man life. What the hell was I supposed to do? I hadn't planned for any of this. I had no place anywhere anymore, but he had it all. He had it all just like that while I had gotten completely fucked."

The needle brushed the last finishing touches, and Tooru put the gun down on the table. The vibration tingled the nerves all the way to his elbow, and he flexed his fingers. He wiped the picture clean, and the tiger stretched along the skin. Its thick tail fused with a dark tree branch that had red flowers blooming. Little splatters of red glowing against the skin here and there. It was finished.

He smeared the burning hot skin with soothing cream and covered the glistening area with some plastic wrap. His legs were stiff, and his bad knee cracked when he stood up. He leaned over Hajime whose blurred eyes looked up at him.

"I think I'm a bit lost," Hajime said with a gruff voice. "I don't know what to do next."

Tooru cupped his face, and his gloves left stains of ink and wax on Hajime's cheek as he stroked it. When he leaned in and pressed their lips together Hajime uttered a little sound of surprise but didn't resist when Tooru's tongue licked his lips and dipped between them. When he pulled back Hajime's eyes were wide and his tongue darted out to flick Tooru's taste on his lips.

"I think I've fallen in love with you, Iwaizumi Hajime," Tooru said and looked down at Hajime with soft eyes. "Stump and all."


	10. Chapter 10

Hajime startled awake just as he was falling to his certain and hit the ground in his dream. His heart lurched uncomfortably, and a warm wave of adrenalin washed over him and spiked his blood pressure. For a while, he stared at the familiar, comforting ceiling of Tooru's bedroom as the wild thumping of his heart calmed down.

Careful not to disturb the mattress he sat up. His hair was still a bit damp from the shower when he ran his shaky hand through it while fumbling for the small, wrinkled joint on the nightstand. The lighter clicked in the quiet room and illuminated Hajime's frown as he tried to aim the flame with the little stub. His moist lips stuck to the dry rolling paper as he sucked on the other end and inhaled the thick smoke.

Medical marijuana had been Tooru's idea, of course. He had talked Hajime into trying it out once when he hadn't had a good night sleep for days. Worst-case scenario, he had said, you'll eat chips with ice cream and feel a bit gross about it afterward, so there's really nothing to lose. Hajime hadn't liked the heavy mellowness and feeling of detachment, but it had helped with the nightmares. His hippy doctor had almost seemed pleasantly surprised when Hajime had asked for the prescription.

The smoke tickled deep in his lungs, and Hajime tried to suppress the coughing. The sheets rustled behind him, and a hand stroked his back.

"You alright?" Tooru's voice was thick with sleep.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Go back to sleep."

"Mmmm, but I'm up now." The bed creaked when he sat up and wrapped his arms around Hajime from behind. The familiar body heat seeped through Hajime's shirt. "And I was having such a good dream, too. Wanna guess?"

"I'm gonna take a wild guess by the way you're rubbing against me and say it's something R-rated."

Tooru chuckled, and the vibrations ran down Hajime's back. "Ding, ding, ding. Would you like to know what the grand prize is, sir?"

Hajime rolled his eyes but smiled a little. "Sure, what did I win?"

The joint was carefully removed from between his fingers, and with his eyes closed, Tooru sucked on the stub. Instead of inhaling the smoke all the way he reached to seal their lips tightly and exhaled it into Hajime's mouth. Surprised, Hajime coughed and tried to pull back, but Tooru's hand cradled the back of his head and kept him firmly in place. As Tooru's tongue sneaked to stroke Hajime's, some of the smoke escaped between their lips.

When satisfied, Tooru released him with a wide grin. "Shotgun kisses."

Hajime coughed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Jesus, warn a guy."

"Aww, where's the fun in that." Tooru took another hit, but this time saved it all for himself.

Hajime settled back on his back and looked at the naked Tooru sitting and smoking next to him. Behind the curtains, the clouds slid across the night sky, and the pale moonlight filled the bedroom. Shadows marked the curves of Tooru's body – the bumps of his shoulders, the dip of his collarbone, the little rolls of his waist when he was sitting, and the curve of his ass.

"What?" Tooru asked when he caught Hajime staring.

"Nothin'."

"Liking what you see?"

"I ain't complainin'."

Tooru reached over Hajime to put out the joint but instead of flopping down on his side of the bed, he straddled Hajime's hips and looked down at him. His weight rested on Hajime warm and solid.

"Just looking? Don't you wanna do anything else? It's all yours."

"It's kinda late, though. And you have an early morning, right?"

Tooru rolled his hips and rubbed their groins together. Hajime could feel stiffness pressing against his softer front.

"But I'm all hot and bothered. That dream was really good. Should I tell you about it?"

Before Hajime could utter a word Tooru grabbed his hands by the wrists and placed them over his ass.

"You were squeezing there," he said and guided Hajime's fingers to press into the soft flesh. "Took a generous handful, too." He rocked his hips and prompted Hajime to follow the movements.

Hajime looked up at Tooru arching his back and biting his lip. The one-sided stiffness between them grew, and Tooru sighed as the roughness of Hajime's boxers rubbed against him. He leaned his weight against Hajime's chest, and Hajime tried to ignore the uneasy skip of his heart.

"What else? What else happened?"

"I touched you, too. Here." Tooru said and sounded a bit out of breath. His hand slid under the hem of Hajime's shirt and ran smoothly up and down his sides and over his chest.

Underneath, Hajime's heart had started to thump again, much like when he had woken up from his nightmare. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on Tooru's touches, but darkness only made it worse. Tension spread from his spine and slowly distanced him from it all, made him both hyperaware, anxious, and unresponsive.

The weight of Tooru shifted when his other hand dragged down. "And here, too," he whispered and wiggled his fingers under the waistband of Hajime's boxers.

A lightning of nerves shot through Hajime, and before he could stop himself he grabbed Tooru's wrist. They both froze, and time in the bedroom stopped.

"Hajime?" The huskiness in Tooru's voice had disappeared, and it clashed in the silent room.

"Ah, sorry," Hajime stammered and released his grip on Tooru's hand. "Sorry, I just…"

"Too much?"

"Yeah, sorry."

"You don't need to apologize, it's okay." Tooru rolled off, and as soon as the pressure of his weight was off Hajime, his breathing eased. Tooru settled next to him and looked at him. "Better?"

"Yeah, sorry – uh, did I hurt you? Your hand?"

"No, I'm fine."

"You sure?" Hajime reached to take a closer look but hesitated the last second and pulled back. "I didn't mean to, I just – "

Tooru ruffled Hajime's hair and broke the awkward tension. "I'm fine, I'm not made of China. It was my fault anyway, I went too far. Why didn't you say anything?"

"I don't know. I guess I wanted to give it a try. You were in the mood."

"You don't need to push it for my sake. That's not how it works."

"Yeah, but – "

"No buts," Tooru said sharply. "It's not only about you. If you ever again let me do something you're not ready for, I will never forgive you, is that clear?"

"Okay," Hajime said quietly. "Sorry."

"We'll get there one day, but we can't rush it."

Hajime frowned and sank deeper into the mattress with a frustrated sigh. "But what if we never get there? What if I'm never ready? You really wanna have that kinda relationship? Constant blue balls?"

"Then we'll figure something! It's not like there's only one way to have sex in the world. I mean, sure, I wanna get off, but there're other ways to feel good. You like kissing and my ass, right? Then we do those things. When you're feeling good, it turns me on, too, so there's no need to worry about not satisfying me."

Hajime's ears started to burn at Tooru's frankness, and he shifted uncomfortably. "But it's not the same."

"As what, fucking? True, it's not, but we can work around that. I'm happy as long as I can be near you." Tooru leaned in for a soft kiss and buried his fingers in Hajime's hair. "You're just as much of a man as anyone else," he said next to Hajime's ear. "And I'm love with you, not your dick. Now, I wanna cuddle my man, is that okay?"

It didn't take long for Tooru to fall back asleep pressed against Hajime's side and using his chest as the pillow. His little snuffles and snores made Hajime's heart flutter a little, and he wondered if Tooru could hear them in his sleep. The hard-on slowly softened and melted away against Hajime's thigh.

Despite everything Tooru had said, he wasn't completely reassured about not being inadequate. It was all frustrating. He wanted Tooru, but sex just didn't feel the same anymore. He had become afraid of it. Like a satellite, sex bounced his frame of mind back to his dreams when he was lying on the ground and couldn't breathe. It filled him with the same adrenalin. How do you work around that?

 **~~oOo~~**

"So, I heard you got a new tattoo?" Mattsun said from across the garden table. "What'd ya get?"

"Nah, it's an inside thing."

"Come on, I wanna see."

With a sigh, Hajime put down his non-alcoholic beer that tasted like crap and pulled up the hem of his shirt to reveal the left side of his chest. Both Em and Mattsun leaned closer and squinted their eyes as they tried to make out the words above Hajime's heart.

"Stump and all," Mattsun mumbled and looked at Hajime confused. "Stump and all? I don't get it."

"I told ya."

"Did Tooru do that?" Em asked while hushing the whimpering baby in her arms.

"Yeah, about a month ago."

"So, it's going alright with you guys?"

Hajime's eyes automatically scanned the backyard until he spotted Tooru playing with the twins by the swings. "Yeah, it's pretty good."

Mattsun glanced at his friend out of the corner of his eyes and caught him smiling to himself.

"Did you start working out again? I couldn't help but notice."

"I've been hitting this one gym across the street from Tooru's studio. I can't go back to my old routine and I'm still looking for a socket that fits better, but yeah."

"I should come with you someday. Sure could use some alone-time from all the chaos," Mattsun said and busied himself with his drink to ignore Em's pointed arched eyebrow.

As if on cue one the twins fell off the swing and started crying, probably more from getting scared than hurt, but immediately her face twisted upside down and tears started flowing down her cheeks. Tooru picked her up, but Hajime could hear all the way to the table she wanted her mommy. With a tired sigh, Em got up and was about to pass the baby to Mattsun when she turned to look at Hajime instead.

"Would you like to hold her? I don't think you two have been properly introduced yet. Here," she lowered the baby carefully in Hajime's arms, "meet your new goddaughter."

She went inside with Tooru and the twins, and the baby quieted down. She looked up at Hajime with her swollen black eyes, and he offered his finger for her to claps her fist around. Apart from the slanted eyes and flat nose, she didn't seem that different.

"Have you thought any names for her?"

"Molly."

"Another one with the M? Maddie, Mavis, Molly?"

Mattsun grinned at Hajime. "What can I say, Em likes the M. Can't get enough of it."

"How do the girls like their new sister?"

"I think the charm of novelty has worn off already. The other night, Mavis asked when are we gonna take her back to the hospital."

Hajime smiled at the baby, and her eyes widened comically. "You heard that? And it's only gonna get harder from here, buddy. You're gonna be on the receiving end of a lot of sibling-on-sibling violence and treachery."

"Oh god, don't scare me," Mattsun groaned. "I can already imagine."

"When are you going back to work?"

"In about two weeks. They gave me time-off pretty liberally. It seems your benefits get a lot better when you mention you're a veteran. At least with the local businesses."

"Never thought I'd see the day when you're selling sportswear and equipment for a living."

"You and me both, buddy, you and me both," Mattsun said with a chuckle and leaned back in his chair which wobbled under his weight. "But it pays the bills, I guess."

"Do you ever miss the army?"

Mattsun was quiet for a while and let his eyes wander around the backyard littered with children's toys.

"Sometimes, but most of the time I'm glad I got out. I miss the action, though. Customer service can be tiring, and there are days when I'd rather cram myself in a dusty ass tent with ten other guys for months than deal with another idiot asking me about sneaker sales. But on the other hand, I get to see the girls off every morning and argue about bedtime and brushing your teeth. So, it's all more than worth it." He took a sip of his lemonade with ice and the melting cubes clinked against the glass. "I've been considering doing some bouncer gigs, though. Can't let myself lose the edge completely. What about you? I know you're doing therapy and all that, but have you thought about possible jobs?"

"They actually called me about an instructor's position, but I haven't given my answer yet."

"Who? The army?"

"Yeah."

"Really? What field?"

"Guns and tech. They have this new fancy simulation environment they want me to use to train new recruits. I could have my own group and all. Make it as small or big as I want."

"Whoa. What's holding you back?"

The baby cooed, and Hajime wiggled his finger in front of her. She grabbed it again which seemed to be enough entertainment for her.

"I dunno. It's a lot of work, and with the meds and all…I dunno."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. But still, it's one hell of an opportunity. Would you rather sell sneakers?"

"With all that's going on, that doesn't sound half bad."

"Well, whatever you decide to do make sure it's what you want to do."

"Yeah, we'll see. I feel like I need to get myself properly on track before taking on new responsibilities."

"How's the therapy going?"

Hajime rolled his eyes and sighed. "God, I'm sick of it. The constant talking is exhausting."

"But it's helping, right?"

"Yeah, but I still hate it."

Em came back with the twins and Tooru. The kids were sucking on popsicles, and even Tooru was licking an ice cream. For a moment, Hajime's eyes locked on the pink tongue darting out to slurp the sweet melting coldness.

"Do you ever – " Hajime begun without thinking but bit down on his tongue.

"Hmm? Do I ever what?"

"Nothing, forget it. It's getting a bit cooler by now, right? Can't keep the windows open at night anymore."

"Oh, come on, you can't start something and then not tell me. Out with it!"

Hajime nodded down at the baby in his arms. "It's something I'd rather not discuss while holding your newborn daughter."

Mattsun grinned. "Well, that's the biggest pro with the newborn, you could tell the state secrets right at their face and they'd be none the wiser. I promise she won't repeat anything you say. What is it?"

Quickly Hajime looked around to make sure no one was within earshot. Other than an innocent little baby girl. Em was pushing Maddie on the swing, and Tooru was playing with Mavis in the sandbox. Hajime shifted awkwardly and leaned closer to Mattsun.

"Do you ever…," he said with a hushed voice. "I mean, how are you and Em doing…in the bedroom?"

Mattsun frowned in confusion. "Bedroom?"

"Well, in the _bed_ area of the bedroom, more specifically."

"Is this another inside thing I'm not getting?"

"Jesus, you're gonna make me spell it out for ya, aren't you?"

A smug little smile appeared and broke Mattsun's innocent confusion. "I am a little, yeah."

"So?" Hajime demanded with an annoyed glare. "How are things with you on that department? You got any…problems?"

"You mean can I get it up?" Mattsun deadpanned.

Hajime flinched, took another sweep of their surroundings, and attempted to cover the baby's ears with one hand. "Keep your damn voice down, idiot," he half-whispered.

"We're both adults here."

"Yeah, but – "

"But to answer your question, yeah, I have those problems. Sometimes. Usually lasts about a month or so after we get home, a bit longer after the last tour. But we have little kids, so it's not like we'd be at it 24/7 anyway."

A bit tense and waiting for Mattsun to drop another bomb Hajime cleared his throat. "How did you, you know – how did you take care of it?"

"What have you tried?"

"I'm not gonna – just answer the damn question!"

Mattsun shrugged. "I went to see my doctor, and he prescribed me some of the blue magic."

"That's it? Did it help?"

"Yeah, but," Mattsun looked at him, "like my doctor pointed out, it's just a band-aid, not a cure. In our case, and yours especially, it's not about just not getting it up. If you're having problems, you should talk about it to your therapist. Besides, you're gonna need a prescription anyway."

"Sure, sure," Hajime waved impatiently, "but you're saying it helped?"

"Most times, yes. But seriously, you need to deal with the cause, too, not just the symptom."

Hajime groaned and leaned back in his chair. "Jesus, you sound just like my therapist."

"What about Tooru? What does he think about all this?"

"He acts like it's not a big deal. He keeps saying we should just give it more time. But I know he's just trying not make me feel bad about it. I mean, come on, what else could he do?"

"Maybe he's telling the truth?"

"Yeah, well, it doesn't matter, I'm gonna fix it."


	11. Chapter 11

"You sure about this?"

"Yes."

" _Sure_ -sure?"

"For god's sake, _yes_. Just…let's just get to it."

Tooru let out a little burst of nervous giggles that he tried to repress with his hand, and Hajime glared at him from his side of the bed.

"What?"

"Nothing, just – way to set the mood."

"Whatever, shaddup."

Couple weeks ago, Hajime had mentioned his performance problems in the bedroom to his psychiatrist in hopes of getting the blue magic prescription without going into too much details about his lacking sex life but of course, no such luck. Instead, she had booked a shared appointment for them, and for 55 minutes Hajime had been squirming and sweating on the couch talking about erectile dysfunction. At the end of their first session, Dr. Santillan had given them a couple simple exercises, and Hajime was determined to make them work.

It was finally their big night that they had agreed to try her advices. They were lying in bed face-to-face with each other's naked bodies. A raging thunderstorm had cut off the power, and the only source of light was the candles Tooru had lit all around the room. The sea of flickering little flames cast soft shadows to dance on their skin. Heavy rain was pattering against the window and cocooned them into the of world of their own.

"Okay, okay." Tooru took a couple of deep breaths to get a hold of himself and shook his hands to ease the jitters. "Jesus, it feels like it's my first time. You wanna go first?"

"You go first."

"But this was your idea."

"It was Dr. Santillan's idea!"

"But she's your doctor."

"Jesus Christ, _fine_." Hajime rolled his eyes with an annoyed huff but then a silent concentration fell over him and he glanced at Tooru's naked body lying in front of him. "Okay, I – uh, I want to hold your hand."

Silently Tooru offered his hand, and Hajime grabbed it. The skin was dry and warm, and his palm a bit rough. The long fingers gave Hajime's hand a light squeeze, and the round eyes monitored his face.

"How does it feel?"

"Like you're holding my hand. You?"

"It's nice, I like your hand."

Hajime cleared his throat. "Uh, your turn."

"Okay, umm…I wanna touch your face."

"Fine."

Instinctively Tooru moved his right hand but forgot it was already occupied. He switched to his left hand, but the angle was all wrong and he ended up jerking both of his hands awkwardly.

"Can we – just, take my – " He took a hold of Hajime's left hand and reached to touch his face with his right one. It was sudden and clumsy, and Tooru's palm just rested there against Hajime's cheek stiffly. "Uh, how's that?"

"It's warm. You can move it if you want."

The fingers twitched nervously, and the thumb stroked the smoothness of his cheek. Hajime observed Tooru's face as he watched the movements of his own hand. The dim candlelight deepened the brown of his eyes to almost black and accentuated the suggestive arch of his lips. Thunder rumbled and cracked the air, and Tooru flinched a little.

"My turn," Hajime said quietly. "I wanna kiss you."

At first, it seemed like Tooru would oppose but then nodded and leaned in. Hajime closed his eyes, and their dry lips met midway and breaths shuddered between their face. It was rather a quick peck than a proper kiss, and Hajime felt like a little kid shyly giving his first kiss behind some school corner. They had kissed plenty before, but the nervous energy tingled his lips and made his heart lurch a little.

With a frown, he pulled back and found Tooru looking at him. The fingers gave his hand another squeeze.

"What do you feel?"

"My heart's beating faster. My chest is getting full."

"Was it scary?"

Hajime swallowed. "I wanna try again."

"It's my turn. I want you to feel my heartbeat."

Hajime glanced at Tooru confused when he pressed Hajime's hand tight against his chest. In silence, Hajime concentrated on his palm flat over Tooru's heart. At first, he couldn't feel anything but little by little the faint pulses from deep within reached his hand. They were barely there, and it was a strange contrast to the raging storm outside.

"Can you feel it?" Tooru said, and the vibration of his voice resonated tickled Hajime's palm. "My chest is kinda full, too. Whenever you're feeling like your heart's beating faster, mine's too. I'm right there with you."

"My turn, I wanna kiss again."

"My turn, don't close your eyes this time."

Tooru's face got fuzzy as he leaned closer until all Hajime could see was the bridge of his nose and tuffs of his hair. The kiss deepened fast. Soon they licked and nibbled each other's dry lips moist and puffy. The tingling spread all around Hajime's face, and his fingers curled against Tooru's chest.

Tooru pulled back. "Was that still scary?"

A bit out of breath, Hajime tasted his lips. "Not as much."

"Then keep your eyes open and look only at me. What are you feeling right now?"

"Like my breathing is heavier. And it's getting warmer…down there."

A soft smile squinted Tooru's eyes, and he gave a low chuckle. The hand stroked Hajime's cheek again, but this time the touch was lingering and instinctive.

"I told ya we'd get there. And I'll wait for you no matter how long it takes." He shuffled closer to snuggle deeper into Hajime's embrace. The half-mast of a hard-on Hajime would silently be proud of the next couple of days brushed burning against his naked thigh. "Just – whatever happens, don't close your eyes again. Always keep them open for me."


End file.
